This Magic Moment
by foxgloved
Summary: Zuko is content with his life: sheriff of his small town by day, wrangling his twin daughters into braids and bedtime stories at night. But when the mysterious Katara moves into the mysterious mansion and opens a mysterious shop next door, Zuko finds himself a little...bewitched. Not that he believes in magic. Right. [modern au]
1. Chapter 1

The mysterious Katara arrives mysteriously in the middle of the night and takes up residence in the mysterious mansion at the top of the mysterious hill.

"You should check it out," Toph suggests, shrugging her shoulders.

Zuko finishes locking his gun away before asking, "Check what out?"

"That new girl that moved into the Mourns. Zhao swung by earlier to complain about some very creepy noises coming from the house, and Long Feng swears that he saw pink rabbits jumping around on the lawn."

Zuko sighs and adjusts the belt on his dark uniform pants. "Zhao was in here yesterday complaining about Jeong Jeong's underwear hanging out to dry on his own clothesline, in his own yard. And Long Feng hits the sauce so hard that I'm surprised he doesn't see pink elephants."

"Still," Toph says, injecting a bit of a whine into her tone. "You're driving past there on your way home. You could stop in."

"And say what? 'Hi, this is your friendly neighborhood sheriff! Do you mind if I scope your garden for creepy noises and colorful bunnies?'"

"You could make it work," Toph insists. Zuko arches an eyebrow at her and she correctly reads his silence. "Oh, Sheriff, come on, I'm the one on desk-duty this week. I really don't want to deal with Zhao when he's back again tomorrow complaining about police inefficiency and incompetence. And," she adds, a little sly, "Do you really want him making yet another citizen's arrest?"

Zuko groans, defeated. Zhao has more arrests under his belt than any actual officer in the history of Eerie Falls.

::

The mansion's not exactly on his route home from the station. Zuko has to swing left before he gets to the Gables, and navigate three miles of treacherous road before he comes upon the Mourns, impressive and steadfast in the September darkness. The pure isolation of it makes him shiver, nothing but gates and trees to shroud it.

He climbs wearily from the cruiser and half-heartedly waves his flashlight around. No rabbits, pink or otherwise, little to see but leaves and blackness. A light flickers on in one of the upstairs rooms just as he's getting back into the car, but although the blinds move a little, the room's occupant stays out of sight.

Great, just what this town needs—another curtain twitcher.

Zuko turns the engine over and pushes the car into gear. He's tired, bone tired, and he has two very good reasons to be somewhere else right now.

The mysterious Katara will have to stay mysterious for at least one more night.

::

Aang's already got his big puffy coat on when Zuko comes into the house. "You don't pay me enough for this shit," he announces, walking past Zuko with all the poise of a broken man. There's something yellow smeared across his cheek and he has glitter in his hair.

The door all but rattles off its frame behind him, and Zuko takes a deep breath. "Hellions," he shouts. "Mariko! Ayaka!"

Aya's head appears first from behind the sofa, almost instantly followed by Mari's at the other end, and finally Appa's paws creep up over the back. It's impressive that a dog the size of a small horse somehow manages to defy the laws of physics by squishing himself into hidey-holes designed for tiny girls.

Zuko slides his hands to his hips and looks pointedly at the chaos around the room. It's a disaster area of clothes, shoes, books, toys, felt tip markers, and food—only some of it plastic. He's rolled yellow crime scene tape around less disturbing scenes.

"Hi Dad," Mari says quietly.

"Hi Dad," Aya echoes, even quieter.

Zuko lets his hands drop, and rolls his shoulders. "Bath. Now."

They don't argue, trotting up the stairs after him, and tugging at him as he fills the tub. Mari curls her tiny hand around his shoulder, while her sister pushes her face into Zuko's back. He falls into the quiet of it, their physical closeness, and the steam that clears his head a little.

"Okay," he says when the girls are lifted into the water. "I'm going downstairs to make a start on the bombsite. You know the drill, sing until I come back up here."

He makes his way through the clutter while the girls warble through the soundtrack of Frozen, their voices extra shrill with the added bathroom acoustics.

"I can't hear you," he calls when it quietens a little.

 _"DON'T KNOW IF I'M ELATED OR GASSY, BUT I'M SOMEWHERE IN THAT ZONE…"_

Zuko feeds the dog, fills the washing machine, and microwaves some pasta that Aang must have made earlier. It's only penne and a jar of sauce, but his stomach rumbles anyway. Stripped down to just his undershirt and pants, he makes it back upstairs just in time to join in the chorus, his bare feet slapping in the puddles on the floor.

 _"...let it go, let it go, and I'll rise like the break of daw-aw-awn."_

The twins squeal and dance in the wilting suds, belting out the rest of the song, and squealing some more when Zuko takes breaks from rinsing hair to squirt water in both of their faces.

Appa howls enthusiastically from the bottom stair.

::

When every toe has been dried and both heads have been blitzed with anti-tangle spray, the girls follow Zuko to his pasta, spoons at the ready. They've already eaten, but snacking from his plate is in their top five favorite things to do—in between getting henna tattoos and riding in the cruiser.

 _"Yours always tastes nicer, Dad."_

Zuko gave up arguing with that logic years ago, both with himself and his daughters. Some days it's the only time they get to eat together.

"So," he says. "What's the latest from around the watercooler today?"

"Well," Mari begins, leaning in, which means something juicy has gone down. "You know the store across the street? The one that used to sell the smelly carpets?"

Zuko nods, smiling at her chinhands.

"It's gonna be a new store," Aya chimes in. "With awesome stuff like candy that brushes your teeth and princess outfits and answers to all the homework."

"And superpowers," Mari says.

"And jewels."

"And glitter balls."

Zuko watches like a spectator at a tennis match, swinging his head back and forth as the twins try to one-up each other on all the unlikely things that this store will bring into their lives.

"And tigers," Mari says, sneaking a little pasta to Appa under the table.

"You're not buying any tigers," Zuko says firmly, pointing his fork at her. "They eat even more than you guys do."

"Awwww," the girls chorus, heads dropping a little. They go back to their chewing, dueling with their spoons for the last scraps.

"What are you going to buy at the magic store, Dad?" Aya asks when the plate is bare.

Zuko thumbs away the sauce she's smeared on her forehead. "Oh, I dunno. I might buy two girls that tidy up a little and don't terrorize their babysitters. And maybe some socks."

Two pairs of blue eyes widen in horror. "You wouldn't, Dad," they screech in unison.

Zuko takes a long sip of his milk. "You're right," he says. "I don't need any more socks."

::

It's Aya's turn to tell the story tonight, and she's drawing it out as much as she can. Zuko is wedged between her and her sister in the double bed that the girls share.

"...and then Prince Zuko said 'please rescue me from the terrible tower where I've been a prisoner for a hundred years and it's cold and stinky and I'm all by myself.' And do you know what happened then, Dad?" She blinks up at him, her hair brushing softly across his arm. Mari's almost asleep, smacking her lips every now and then.

Zuko can guess. "The two beautiful, brave, strong, ninja princesses rescued the prince from the tower?"

"No," Aya says, entirely serious. "The tiger rescued him, because tigers are awesome, and they're super strong, and they can even swim—"

"No. Tigers."

Aya huffs. "Fine. The two beautiful, brave, strong, ninja princesses rescued the prince and made him do all the tidying up forever and ever and ever infinity."

That sounds about right.

"So," Zuko says, almost carefully, when he's sure that the story is over. "Everything okay at school today?"

Aya burrows her head into his shoulder, shielding her face. "Yes." Her breath leaves a damp mist on his bicep.

"Good," he says, and lets it go. "And hey, I love you."

When she doesn't respond, Zuko finds that ticklish spot just under her ribs and pokes at it. "Daaaaad," she shrieks, jolting. He has to move quickly to grab her foot before Mari gets a very rude awakening.

"I said," Zuko chides, shaking her ankle gently. "I love you."

"I heard you," she giggles, because she's not his child for nothing.

"Oh, it's like that, is it." He drums his fingers against her ribs again until she grabs his hand, squeezing tight.

"No more tickles, Dad," she wheezes. "I love you, too."

Zuko smiles down at her flushed face and crinkled eyes. "Thought so," he laughs, and she grins right back before settling down, her head on his shoulder.

He means to get up and make a head start on tomorrow, but he's warm and cocooned by two fidgety hot water bottles. He closes his eyes, just for a minute. When he opens them again, Mari's foot is jammed under his chin and Aya's head is squashing his ear.

He's too comfortable to move.

::

Zuko lives in the second of five terraced houses that all open onto the street. The large backyards make up for the absence of any front lawns, and Zuko's never really missed that buffer between his home and the outside world. He likes the immediacy and efficiency of stepping out the door and onto the sidewalk. Mostly, he enjoys how quickly he gets back inside, no unruly grass or weeds to delay or distract him.

Their street is usually so quiet that this might be the first morning he remembers external noise dragging him from sleep before the alarm. He pads down the stairs with the drone of drills in his ears, and pulls the door open.

There's life in the old carpet store for the first time in two years—painters, glaziers and delivery guys all moving seamlessly around each other.

"Huh," he mutters. So there is a new store. He doesn't give it much chance of success, tigers or no. For a start, the main street is a ten minute walk from here, so it's well out of the way of passing shoppers. But mostly, if this was a new venture by a local, then Zuko would have heard about it, and two strangers moving to Eerie Falls would be a big coincidence.

Which means that the mysterious Katara has moved into both the Mourns and the shop across the street. Temporarily, anyway. Eerie Falls isn't exactly stranger friendly. Many arrive with big plans and leave with slumped shoulders and broken spirits.

The girls are up when he goes back inside, Aya drowning her cereal in milk, Mari eating hers almost dry. Zuko ruffles both heads and gets to ironing and packing up their school bags. It's just any other Tuesday, and between the usual bickering about teeth brushing and making beds, the twins remind him that they have violin after school.

Zuko makes a mental note to update Aang, and pulls out a chair, patting the hairbrush invitingly. "I'm taking requests today, ladies."

"French braid, please," Mari says, climbing up.

"You've come to the right place, mademoiselle," he says with a mock bow. "I am an expert in French braids."

Mari giggles and leans her head back.

"So," Zuko says, running the bristles gently through her dark, thick hair. "What are you excited for today?" And as Mari leaps into an animated re-enactment of fossils getting trapped in sediment deposits, all thoughts of the new stranger on the block are swept away, for now.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the following week much is learned about Katara. She's filthy rich. She inherited her money from her wealthy family. She murdered her husband and collected on the insurance. She won the state lottery. She's from Canada. She's from the South. She's from Christmas Island. She's opening a funeral parlor. She's opening a bakery. She used to be a clown in the circus. She used to be a pro swimmer. She's a drug dealer. She's a horse whisperer. She's a whistleblower.

She's Bad News.

And. What. Will. Become. Of. Us. All.

"So, she's also a Yeti," Zuko says after Toph tells him about Zhao's latest sightings of eight foot shadows up at the Mourns. He jams the phone between his ear and his shoulder to lean over and correct Mari's pencil grip, which leads to a bit of a frown-off.

"Well, she's certainly as elusive," Toph says down the line.

"Not for much longer," Zuko says, looking towards the window. The store looks like it might be nearly finished. The dumpsters have been taken away and the glass panes are gleaming. There's not much to be learned from the generic whitewashed front in terms of just what's being sold, and the only paperwork Zuko's been able to get his hands on lists 'Miscellaneous' in the contents section.

"I don't even know if her showing up in person is going to make things better or worse. Either way, it'll be interesting," Toph muses.

Zuko's not keen on interesting. _Interesting_ usually means longer hours in his uniform and more time away from his family.

"She's nice," Aya says when Zuko hangs up.

"Who?" Zuko asks, adjusting Mari's pencil once more.

"The lady who owns the store," Aya answers, not looking up from her own homework.

Zuko frowns. "How do you know?"

"I just do," Aya shrugs. "I like her."

"You don't like anyone," Zuko teases. She really doesn't. In the hierarchy of people that she loves is her sister, her dad and her dog. On the next level is her maternal grandmother and her extended paternal family. Then there's her babysitter Aang, which had been a very slow burn despite, or maybe because of, his incessant bubbliness. And that's where it ends.

"I like Katara," she insists.

"Katara," Zuko repeats. "How do you know her name is Katara?"

Aya shrugs again.

"You know how she just knows stuff," Mari says easily, like that shit doesn't scare the bejesus out of Zuko. He fucking hates when they go all _Children of the Corn_ on him.

::

The following morning, Zuko bounds down the stairs to the twins peeking out the window over the back of the sofa, both of them looping an arm around Appa's fluffy white neck. "Girls," he sighs. "How many times? He drools on the cushions."

"So do you," Aya says, making no effort to remove the dog.

"We saw Katara," Mari announces.

"She waved at us," Aya adds.

Zuko walks to the window, but there's no sign of anyone on the street. The lights are on in the store though, and there's a fresh sign painted above the door in black gothic script.

 **Bell, Book, and Candle.**

That's pretty much the final nail in the coffin. If there's anything this town hates more than strangers, it's New Age strangers. Zuko gives it a month before the moving truck is double parked across from his house. Two, if Katara is stubborn.

He's sort of hoping that she is.

"She's magic, Dad," Aya says.

"Doubtful," Zuko says, his breath fogging up the glass.

"She looks just like Moana," Mari gushes.

"If you say so," Zuko says. He heads off to the kitchen to begin scrambling some eggs, and then wonders if they have any eggs.

"You're too young to be this jaded," Mari calls after him.

Zuko almost trips over his own two feet. _"What?"_

"That's what Gyatso says," Aya says, nodding seriously.

"He's Aang's grandpa," Mari explains.

"Yes, thank you," Zuko says, side-eyeing them both. "I know who Gyatso is."

 _Jaded._ Jesus Christ.

::

His first order of business at the station is the arrival of Zhao, flanked by his cronies and their leader, Reverend Li.

Zuko takes a deep breath, and reaches for the report book. It's too early for this shit. It's _always_ too early for this shit. "Good morning," he says, a little too sweetly. "How can I help you good folks today? Some kids been pilfering from the collection plates? Did Ying skimp on the pecans in the pie she made for the church fair? Did Bumi bring his donkey to Sunday Service again?"

The reverend's long coat swishes as he approaches the counter, his back stiff with self-righteousness. "When you come into the land that the Lord your God is giving you, you shall not learn to follow the abominations of those nations. There shall not be found among you anyone who makes his son or daughter pass through fire, or one who practices witchcraft, or a soothsayer, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer, or one who conjures spells, or a medium, or a spiritualist, or one who calls up the dead, for all of those are an abomination to the Lord."

Zuko looks between them all; Zhao's eyes are closed in prayer, June's head is nodding in passionate agreement, and Pakku is staring a hole right through Zuko.

"Good to know," he says mildly. "If that's everything —"

"That, Sheriff," Li says, leaning over the counter and right into Zuko's personal space. There are curious, bulbous growths surrounding his nose that Zuko tries hard not to stare at. "That is a direct quote from Deuteronomy."

"Well, you would know," Zuko agrees. "You are fond of the Old Testament. Personally, I like the second part of the good book better. The one that tells you to love your neighbor."

June steps closer to the reverend, her mouth twitching rabbit-like. "That store is the abomination of which the reverend speaks. It offends our Creator."

Zuko resists the urge to roll his eyes. "It's not bothering me, and I can't close down a store before it even opens just because it offends your sensibilities. So, run along now and clutch your pearls elsewhere."

"Witchcraft," June hisses, her body clenched in fury.

"Witchcraft," Zuko echoes. "I think that's a bit of a stretch." He's not much surprised that they've made it, though. This entire town is a replica of Salem, circa 1692, all of the residents high on suspicion and hysteria.

"I've been up there, at her house," Zhao continues, his lips thinned to bloodless lines. His hair looks even more receded than usual. "She's planting drugs in her garden. Right under our very noses."

"Marijuana," Pakku adds, nodding. "I saw a TV show about it."

Zuko takes a breath, and then another. To think he gave up a chance to join the FBI for this nonsense. "I hardly think that our outdoor climate lends itself to the cultivation of marijuana plants," he says. "You're probably getting confused with rhubarb."

Reverend Li's sigh is that of the sanctimoniously disappointed. "It appears that we are wasting our efforts here," he says with an air of martyrdom. "Very well. We shall make our feelings known in other ways."

"You do that," Zuko says, snappish, slamming the report book shut.

"And might I remind you that the Sheriff's Office is one that is governed by elections," Li continues slyly.

Zuko beckons him closer with a crooked finger. "Only if I might remind you," he whispers in Li's hairy ear. "That any other sheriff might not be so gullible as to believe that those church funds were transferred into your own personal account for _security_ reasons."

The reverend rears back, his pale, watery eyes widening a little.

"I take it that will be all," Zuko says with a pleasant smile.

"For now," Li says primly, leading his band of hellfire and brimstone out of the station. "But I'll be seeing you at the town meeting."

"Can't wait," Zuko grumbles into the silence they leave behind.

::

"Dad? Daddy, where are you? Dad? _Daaaaad_!"

"In the kitchen," Zuko shouts, and goes back to constructing his sandwich. He smiles to himself when Barbie high heels clomp loudly across the floor tiles.

"Oh no, Dad," Mari whispers, eyeing the loaded counter. "Is it that time of the month?"

Zuko winces; he's told Toph to stop calling it that. "Yep," he sighs, hoisting Mari up to sit alongside the packages and jars. The shoes slide from her narrow feet, clattering to the floor. "Wanna help?"

"Sure," she says, poking at the packages. "Should we start with the cheese?"

"Go for it," Zuko invites, accepting a slice of Swiss cheese, followed by some American cheddar. "What now?"

Mari considers, her mouth twisting. "Ham," she says, ripping the carton open and rolling the meat before handing it over. "Five pieces. And now some pickle." Zuko loads up the bread, piling on pastrami and more cheese in the order Mari dictates. "Some lettuce, for vitamins."

"Very important," Zuko agrees, even though the sandwich is pretty much a lost cause in terms of proper nutrition, especially when smothered with mayo and mustard. He slaps the second slice of bread on top and wraps the whole affair in cling wrap before stashing it in the fridge alongside two bottles of beer.

"Hug?" Mari offers when he turns around.

"Always, baby," Zuko says, scooping her up and burying his nose into her soft and eternally wild hair—his gift to her. "You give the best hugs," he murmurs, and her arms tighten around his neck, her tiny hands patting his shoulders. He takes another breath and feels weak with just how much he loves her. "Something came in the mail this morning," he says softly. "Something really amazing."

Mari pulls back a little, brow furrowed.

"Something so amazing that I've been keeping it close to my heart all day." He reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a postcard.

"What is it?" Mari asks.

Zuko hands it over and watches her lips move silently as she reads the cover.

"It's a Good News Note from Ms. Suki," she says. Zuko hates that she immediately looks to the door, like she's checking that her sister isn't there, listening.

"It's a _great_ Good News Note," Zuko corrects, keeping an arm around her shoulder while he reads the block script on the back. " _Dear Sheriff, this is just to let you know that all of us here in first grade are very proud of Mari. She is hardworking, cheerful, and always kind to the other students in this class. She also does a very good job of looking after Hoppy, the class fish, and she won this month's handwriting competition. So, well done, Mari—keep up the great work!_ " Zuko looks back at her. "The fish is named Hoppy?"

"We were hoping for a rabbit."

Zuko laughs around the tightness in his throat. "Well, this is the best news I've had in days, weeks even. Months. Probably ever. And I am so proud of you, sweetheart."

"I'm proud of you, too, Dad," she says, and it's so genuine that Zuko has to hug her again, until he doesn't feel like he's about to crack wide open.

"We have to celebrate this great good news," he says. "We could go to the movies, or have a fancy dinner, or get a takeout and have a games night. Whatever you want."

Mari doesn't answer for a minute. "I want to wait. I want to wait until Aya gets her note," she says.

"But that could be a while. Ms. Suki only gives out two notes a month." Aya is probably not very high on the list of potential recipients.

"I'll wait," Mari says, nodding with certainty. "I know Aya is going to get her own note, and then we can have a big, big celebration."

"The biggest," Zuko promises.

::

Zuko's time of the month, as Toph calls it, is every first Tuesday when the Residents' Committee gathers at the town hall for their meeting. Serving as Chairperson came with the Sheriff's Office. It had all the honor of inheriting a dead uncle's asshole cat.

He's the first to arrive, switching on lights and the temperamental heating system, his work boots clunky on the wooden floor. The table has already been set up and he scans the agenda while shrugging off his coat. The Store of Doom, the evils of Halloween, preparations for the Christmas pageant, Long Feng being a nuisance, some dog being a nuisance, someone's garden being a nuisance, some other nuisance being a nuisance. Basically, items seven to sixteen are nuisances. It's going to be a long night.

At the end of the table is a substantial bundle of flyers. The reverend's doing, Zuko supposes, as he examines one. The font is bold and chilling— _Is Your Soul For Sale?_ Zuko's making faces at it when the door opens and a woman walks in, a rolled up poster tucked under her arm.

"Hi," she says, smiling widely as she approaches. "Who do I speak to about hanging this up?" She unravels the poster, which is endearingly homemade and reads— _YOGALATES!_ —

"Katara?" Zuko guesses with a small smile.

"Sheriff?" Katara returns, her bright eyes skirting over Zuko's uniform.

"Zuko," Zuko offers along with his hand. Katara takes it, her grip firm and warm.

"Katara."

"It's nice to meet you at last."

"At last?" Katara's eyebrows rise. "Someone been talking about me?"

"Someone," Zuko snorts. "Everyone. My girls especially."

"Your girls?"

"We live across from the store. They're stalking you via my front window. I could help with the restraining order paperwork, if you like."

Katara's whole face lights up. "The twins?" she says, smiling so wide that it has to hurt. "With the Great Dane?"

"Appa," Zuko says, grinning back. "Or to give him his full title, Appa Baboon Blue Spirit Cutie Pie Cabbage."

When Katara laughs, her nose scrunches up. It's very dorky, and Zuko decides that he likes her already. "I take it you didn't get a say in that?"

"I didn't get a say in keeping him. The girls found him abandoned behind the mall one day, and..." Zuko shrugs. "They kind of have this affinity for waifs and strays."

"Must be great kids," Katara says, looking like she totally means it.

And Zuko is never going to argue with that. "The best." He glances down at the poster. "So, Yogalates?"

"Right," Katara says, suddenly business-like. "It's a fusion of yoga and pilates. Good for the mind, body, and soul. I was able to book the hall for Thursday nights." She pauses, and then, "I'm a certified instructor, if you need to see my credentials."

"You're good," Zuko laughs, quite charmed. "Although I wouldn't let Reverend Li hear you talking about souls. There hasn't been a witch burning in this town for over 400 years. We're about due." His eyes drop guiltily to the flyers on the table, and he winces when Katara's gaze follows. The store isn't specifically named, but it's not hard to read between the lines. "I—" he begins, but Katara cuts across him before he can continue with his apology.

"So the back wall?" she says, like she hasn't even noticed what is essentially a movement to boycott her livelihood. She waves the poster at Zuko. "I can hang this down there?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. There's an advertising fee of twenty-five cents a week that Zhao will hound you for if not paid promptly," Zuko warns. "Failure to pay could adversely affect your credit rating and put your home at risk."

Katara's laughter travels with her to the back of the hall, and Zuko is still smiling when the door opens again.

"Good evening, Sheriff," Ms. Suki says, walking briskly across the floor and plonking her knitting onto the table. "Are we the first here?"

Unfortunately, Zuko thinks. He suspects that she's been looking for an opportunity to continue the recent, and somewhat fraught, discussion they had at the girls' parent/teacher conference. "I haven't changed my mind," he says, his voice low so that it doesn't carry down to where Katara is picking pins from the notice board. "Aya is not being moved into a different class."

Ms. Suki looks a little startled by the abrupt start to the conversation. "I understand that, Sheriff," she says, equally quietly. "I just feel Aya would benefit from having to mix with other children besides her sister. She's very reliant on Mari, and she needs to start making friends—"

"She _needs_ her mother. They both do. And they need a father that doesn't work ridiculously long hours. They need an extended family to be living closer, and they need a grandmother that's more…stable. I can't change any of that for them." Zuko stops and swallows down on the bubble of guilt that's almost permanently lodged in his throat. "But I am not going to take them away from each other. And I'm not going to let you do it either."

Ms. Suki looks at him for a long moment before sighing. "Maybe next year."

Maybe over Zuko's dead body, but it seems like a good place to leave this conversation because Aunt Wu, the town librarian who is not actually anyone's aunt, has just come in.

"Sheriff," she says with a brusque nod. "Ms. Suki. Good evening. I trust that we—" She stops dead when Katara begins walking back across the floor. What's curious is that Katara's stride falters a little, as if she's surprised as well.

"You two know each other?" Zuko asks after a few weird seconds of everybody just standing still. There's a telling pause before Katara shakes her head.

"Katara," she says, offering Aunt Wu her hand, and smiling when the older woman accepts it with a formal offer of her own name. Katara turns to Ms. Suki and introduces herself, making her blush with compliments about the scarf she's working on.

"Well," Katara says, stepping back. "I'll say goodnight. It was nice meeting you all. Sheriff, tell Mari and Aya I said hi."

Zuko watches her go and is still staring at the door when it opens one last time to let Reverend Li and his crew in—the ever dependable Zhao; the mayor, Kuei; and the church organist, Chong Tunnel.

The gleeful spite on Li's face slides when he spots Katara's poster, and he immediately begins blustering through some spiel about heretic propaganda.

Zuko cuts him off coolly. "It's an advertisement for an exercise class, not an invitation for devil worship."

"She hasn't paid—" Zhao begins, but Zuko interrupts that, too, by pointing at the five dollar bill Katara's left on the table.

"I think that takes care of everything until…" He takes an exaggerated amount of time to do the math. "February of next year."

The collective horror when they realize that Katara might be bound to this town for that length of time by five dollars is both ridiculous and hilarious.

"And I assume that this is your work," Zuko says, nodding at the leaflet pile.

"It is," the reverend says, rigid with pride. "For I fear that our congregation may be led astray by those who make wicked promises to false gods—"

"Okay," Zuko says, sitting down and scooting his chair closer to the table. "I just need to know where to send the fines if I see any littered around the town."

Li's face turns a shade of apoplectic red. "This is an outrage. I move that we immediately—"

"Reverend, there is an agenda," Aunt Wu says coldly, poking a pin in Li's hot air. Not one to suffer fools gladly, she doesn't suffer him at all. "First item is the Sheriff's Report."

Zuko gives a brief account of expenditure and some housekeeping items before finishing by announcing the permanent appointment of Deputy Toph after a successful probationary period. He then switches off as the reverend spells out his plans to rid the town of all that's unholy, which basically amounts to his leaflet campaign. Zuko catches Aunt Wu looking at him at one point, and although she's far too dignified to roll her eyes, he can still read her contempt.

It takes a further two hours to get through the list of petty nuisances, and while Zuko can't do anything about Duke being advised that his lawn is too flamboyant or Ty Lee being told to cover more of her flesh before she enters church, he draws the line at anybody shooting Old Man Bumi's dopey donkey if it's caught rummaging through garbage cans again.

"I'll arrest anybody I see brandishing a gun, for whatever reason," he promises.

::

Aang looks up sympathetically when Zuko lets himself into the house. "Should I ask?"

"I wouldn't," Zuko grumbles, making his way to the kitchen. He takes the sandwich from the fridge and uncaps a beer.

"I'm afraid I have more bad news for you," Aang says when Zuko comes back into the living room.

"Don't want to hear it."

"C'mon, Sheriff, you know I need to get my thesis finished."

Zuko reaches for the remote control. "Not listening," he sings.

"I'm going to have to cut my hours."

Even though he had a feeling this was coming, it doesn't make hearing it any easier. "Aang, you can't do this to me, please."

Aang rolls his eyes at Zuko's pathetic face. "Wrong," he grunts, pushing himself up. "I can't do it to the girls. Just, you know, maybe try to sort something else out, even for a day or two every week."

"I'll talk to Michi," Zuko promises as Aang puts on his ridiculous orange coat and says goodnight. When the door closes, Zuko folds down onto the sofa, his legs curled up under him. He's opening his mouth for a bite of his sandwich when the landing creaks under the weight of two tiny bodies.

"Oh my god," he calls. "Did you two hear the fridge opening? You're like bats. Bats who should be asleep."

There's a lengthy pause before Mari speaks. "It's us, Dad." There's another beat before she clarifies, "Mari and Aya."

"We're not bats," Aya adds. "Although bats do wake up at night-time."

"Because they're nocturnal, Dad," Mari says.

"I bet they're hungry, too," Zuko grunts, already breaking one half of his sandwich into another two pieces. Four feet bound down the stairs and kick him in the ribs and stomach as shares are scrambled for. "If you want a beer, you'll have to get that yourself."

The girls giggle before stuffing their mouths, and Zuko laughs at their hamster cheeks. "So, I met Katara," he says conversationally, and laughs again when their eyes widen comically. "She says hi."

It hits him then. That little niggle that he'd put aside when the reverend walked into the hall. _Tell Mari and Aya I said hi._

Which is strange, because Zuko's pretty sure that he didn't mention the girls by name.

"Did you love her?" Mari asks, big eyes blinking hopefully.

"Totally. I might just marry her and run away to Australia."

"Yay," Aya cheers. "Australia! We love Australia! Where's Australia, Dad?"

Zuko raises his eyebrows. "Who said I was taking you with me?"

 _"_ _Daaaaaaaaaad!"_


	3. Chapter 3

The grand opening of Katara's store is a week later, on an otherwise unremarkable day. Zuko's in the rec room getting terribly beaten at foosball by Haru when Toph arrives to relieve him. "You're early," he says. Haru takes advantage of his distraction to give one last devastating flick of his wrist that sends the tiny ball bouncing into the plastic goal.

Toph gives a lazy shrug. "So that store opened today."

"I know," Zuko says, while Haru shimmies his way through some victory showboating.

"You might want to take the cruiser home."

Zuko sighs. Haru keeps dancing.

The unwelcoming committee is in full force by the time he pulls up at his house; a crowd of about twelve, looking more than they really are on the narrow sidewalk. They're twitchy, some of them looking suspiciously at Katara's store, most just waiting around for something to happen.

Zuko reaches for his seldom worn Sheriff's hat. It feels like this might be a hat-wearing situation.

"The rest of the townsfolk gone to round up the pitchforks and torches?" he calls out, tugging the felt Stetson down to his eyebrows as he crosses the road.

Zhao steps out of the throng, chin tilted defiantly. "We're not doing anything wrong," he sniffs.

"You're causing an obstruction on a public street," Zuko says, pulling out his notebook and making the unsettled crew even shiftier.

"It's not right, Sheriff," Zhao insists.

Zuko arches his eyebrows. "And this is?" He makes for the door, the crowd parting to allow him through. "When I get back, you all had better be loitering somewhere else."

A bell chimes when Zuko enters the shop, a quaint, quirky touch that he'd expect from a place like this. But the rest of the store is nothing like he imagined, all open spaces, bright white walls, and pale marble floor tiles. The goods are displayed in an orderly fashion on shelves or in wicker baskets on the ground. Towards the back is a large, glazed area greenhousing herbs and other exotic looking plants. The smell of whatever's growing out there and the candles burning in here combine to create a scent that Zuko struggles to describe. Warm, maybe. Friendly. If friendly had a smell.

"Wow," he says when Katara smiles at him from behind the counter, her finger acting as marker in a closed book.

"Surprised?" she asks, mouth twisting a little.

"Uh-huh." Zuko removes his hat, twisting the rim between his fingers. "I was thinking something more…clandestine."

"Patchouli oil, incense burners, wishing stones, crystal balls, emo assistants?"

"Something like that," Zuko agrees. "Maybe some of those shrunken skulls from South America, and you'd be wearing a necklace made of human teeth."

"Forgot to put it on this morning," she laughs, reaching to touch the necklace she's actually wearing. He glimpses it shimmering blue through her fingers. "Got caught up in the day and completely failed with my accessorizing."

Zuko smiles back. "Weak," he says. "My girls never let me leave the house unless I'm looking my very best. One time I even showed up to a crime scene still wearing clip-on earrings."

Katara's head tilts playfully. "Maybe I should hire them. Are they available for professional consultations?"

"Probably, but word on the street is that you're already rocking the Moana look." Which today is… kind of accurate. Katara's skirt flows around her legs, and her curly hair tumbles loose down her dark skin.

"Good to know," Katara says, and then claps her hands like she's calling business to order. "So, welcome. You're my very first customer." She casts an eye over Zuko's uniform. "Unless this is an official visit?"

"No," Zuko says quickly. "Definitely a customer. I just need some…" He looks around, thinking he really doesn't need anything from this place, but something in him burns hot when he thinks of Katara sitting in an empty store for seven hours. On her opening day.

"Why don't you look around and see if you can find what you… need," Katara suggests.

There are candles that Zuko sniffs curiously. Some he likes better than others; the winter spice makes him wrinkle his nose, but the vanilla is sweet and soothing. It kind of smells like something that he could burn while the twins are whining about homework. It would be hard to argue when wrapped in vanilla.

Vials of herbal remedies are lined up on a narrow shelf; Bach's Rescue Remedy, some rosemary fusion, and others that promise a better night's sleep or increased energy. Zuko doesn't spend much time with them, and he also quickly passes by the copper bangles that offer relief for aching joints, and the amber colored necklaces that promise to soothe baby teething woes.

When he gets to the rear of the store, he notices a small alcove that's a library of sorts. There are maybe twenty shelves, stocking self-help and meditation books that Zuko has little use for. It's the children's stories that catch his eye, some of which he already has at home, favorites like _I'll Love You Forever_ and _Goodnight Moon_. Four brightly colored bean bags create a cozy seating area. They're more child than adult sized, but if Zuko was tired enough, he'd take his chances.

"Hey," he calls. "Those guys outside. They been giving you a hard time?" He steps back into the lobby, and Katara looks up from her book.

"No," she says with a shake of her head, glancing towards the tinted glass pane at the front. "The only one of them I've seen was some poor guy who was pretty wasted, and he just came in to use the restroom."

Zuko sighs. "That would be Long Feng. He has a bit of a problem."

"Sad for him," Katara says sympathetically.

Sad for Zuko, too. Long Feng keeps the Eerie Falls PD busy with his drunken escapades. "Yeah," he mutters while walking to the greenhouse. He only recognizes the parsley and the ginger bulbs among the array of plants and herbs, and he's beginning to despair about making any purchase when he spots a collection of vegetables in muslin covered crates.

"Home grown and organic," Katara says, suddenly beside him.

"Did you grow them?" Zuko jams the hat back on his head, and pokes around in the basket of still dirty potatoes.

"No, they're from a farm maybe sixty miles north. I want to use some of the land around the Mourns, but it's not ready yet. Rotavators are coming in next week before the ground freezes, and the soil needs to be treated, but after that..."

Zuko looks away because Katara and her store will probably be gone long before 'after that' arrives. "I haven't thought about dinner," he admits, eyeing his best bet. Otherwise he's going to end up buying some stupid pity trinket.

"Well, I can help out there," she says, pointing at some laminated cards. "It's a recipe for five-flavor soup, sort of a vegetable stew. Everything you need is there."

He takes a page and studies the ingredients. Eggplant, tomatoes, chilis, peppers, onions, potatoes, celery, and garlic, all of which are available and clearly labelled in the baskets. "Thing is," he says regretfully. "Aya hates celery, and Mari is terrified of turnips. I usually blitz all the veggies, but they can sniff out a dupe with alarming accuracy." He looks up at Katara. "You know how it goes—they can't find their shoes, but they will find that one tiny piece of onion the blender missed."

On the other hand, his kids really need to be eating a more varied diet, one that includes chewing actual vegetables. Or even recognizing them; Mari still thinks parsnips are 'yellow carrots'.

Zuko fishes out his wallet and stares inside. "I'll take twelve dollars' worth."

It looks like far more when he watches Katara box up an obscene amount of vegetables and herbs, throwing two sugar-free lollipops on top. "Something to sweeten the deal," she says. Zuko hands over the cash, and for one crazy moment considers asking Katara to eat with them. She can't have had a great day. "Thanks," is all he does say, though, clutching the box, and shuffling back towards the door.

"Come back again," Katara says cheerfully.

"Sure," Zuko says. It's likely he will.

The only protester still left is Zhao. Zuko leans in close, like he's inviting him into a confidence. "Do you know what a neti pot is?" he mock-whispers. Zhao shakes his head, and tries to peek in the box, but Zuko slings an arm over it protectively. "Me neither," Zuko says, and gives him a lewd wink. "But I'll tell you once I figure it out."

Zhao takes off down the street, knowing just enough to be utterly scandalized.

::

It's a one pot stew. All Zuko has to do is wash, peel and chop, and the stove takes care of everything else. It smells like something Gordon Ramsay would be proud of, and Zuko's congratulating himself when he reaches under the sink for the blender. His mood soon sours when the blender sits still and mute, no matter how many buttons are pushed. Zuko's swearing at it when Aang brings the girls back.

"Did you talk to Michi?" Aang asks.

"I'm on it," Zuko mutters absently, slapping the socket fruitlessly. Stupid thing was working fine last week. "But can you pick them up from volleyball tomorrow?"

"No. Maybe. Fine, yes. But talk to Michi."

"I will."

Zuko isn't holding out much hope for the stew now that the onions and celery are fully visible. But the girls finish every drop he puts in their bowls, mopping up the soup with chunks of bread. Mari holds up her empty bowl, all Oliver Twist, and sets upon her second helping as if she hadn't had a first. "Yummy," she says, sucking up a long slice of onion.

Zuko stares at her. "You're kidding me," he says flatly.

"You should have asked Katara to have some with us."

"It's not like you left her any," Zuko scoffs, tipping the empty pot upside down.

::

"My blender's broken," he says the following evening, the door to Bell, Book, and Candle closing softly behind him. He hadn't even meant to drop in, but the lights inside the store were illuminating its glaring emptiness. It was like trying to walk by an injured kitten.

Katara looks up from some sort of paperwork, pulling a pen from her mouth. Her hair is up today, pieces trailing out of a bun. "I don't have any blenders."

"That's the thing," Zuko explains. "I don't need a new one. I may never need a new blender again."

Katara's face clouds and then clears. "The girls liked the soup?"

"Liked it?" Zuko snorts. "They inhaled it. Aya wanted me to make some more for breakfast."

"Cool. I've got lorco today. It's Argentine casserole," Katara says, moving towards the rear of the store. Zuko follows her, admiring how the blue cotton of her t-shirt cinches in at her waist. He wonders if the fabric feels as soft as it looks.

"It's usually made with squash, but I'm recommending a little seasonal variation." She points at the pumpkins, picks one up and gives it a squeeze test. "Grab a box."

Zuko does, and Katara fills it until his arms begin to sag. Ears of corn, snap peas, tomatoes, more onions and garlic, a cayenne pepper, and six tiny pumpkins. There's something rustically wholesome about how good it all smells.

"You'll also need a little oregano," she says, chopping at a mass of it growing in a tub. "And a bay leaf."

"I'm going to need a bigger saucepan," Zuko says, resting the box on a shelf. "And possibly a wheelbarrow."

"But you'll have lots leftover for breakfast. And hey, do the girls like eggs?"

"Sure."

Katara picks some from a rack, holding them up to examine for cracks, putting a couple back before deciding on her best four. "They're free range," she explains. "Gathered them myself this morning. If you call in tomorrow, I'll have a recipe for frittatas. And more eggs. Oh, and I've got some banana bread by the register, freshly baked. And I also have something for Appa."

She's off again, plucking at a plant, stuffing the leaves into a small paper bag. "It's basil," she says. "Always good in a tomato sauce, but also an excellent antioxidant and antiviral agent for dogs. Just sprinkle a little on his food every day, and he'll be set for the winter."

"I dunno," Zuko says. "With his ridiculous name, he already has ideas above his station. What sort of mutiny am I inviting by giving him garnish with his food?"

"A healthy mutiny," Katara laughs, making her way to the counter. He trails after her, huffing as he lifts the box up on the surface. She balances two sweet loaves on top.

"Shall we say twelve bucks?" she suggests when Zuko reaches into his pocket for his wallet.

"No," Zuko insists. "I can't keep on stealing from you." He's got a twenty and a five, and he holds both out to her.

Katara tilts her head, considers, takes the twenty and no more.

"You're my favorite customer," she insists when he begins to object.

"By default," Zuko returns, reluctantly putting his wallet away. "Given that I'm your only customer."

She shrugs. "It'll pick up."

Zuko's lived in Eerie Falls long enough to sincerely doubt that. "Build it and they will come?"

"Something like that," Katara says with a heartbreaking certainty that makes Zuko's breath hitch a little.

"You don't believe in that stuff, do you? All that woo-woo voodoo. Send it out into universe and it'll come back to you?"

"I take it you don't," Katara throws back, amused.

"No," Zuko scoffs. "Um, no offense."

Katara laughs loudly, her cheeks appling and eyes dancing. "None taken," she promises. "But to answer your question, I believe in thinking positively. I think how we act and feel affects the energy that surrounds us."

Zuko eyes her suspiciously. "Energy like an... aura?"

"If you like," she says, still good natured in the face of his blatant skepticism. "You can tell a lot about a person by the energy they project."

"You can't tell anything about me then, because my energy fucked off before lunch. I'm thinking of reporting it as officially missing, presumed dead." Zuko bangs a _ba dum tsssh_ on the box. "A little police humor for you there."

"I like your energy," Katara says, ignoring the deflection. "It's strong… kind."

"Heroic?" Zuko asks, quirking a brow James Bond style. "Brave? Dashing? Intriguing?"

Katara looks back at him with enough intensity to make him feel a little uncomfortable. "Lonely," she decides.

Zuko hates that he flinches at that. It's not an insult, but it is personal. "Hah," he scoffs. "Fat chance. I'd love to be lonely. I wish I had five minutes to myself so that I could be lonely—"

"Being alone and being lonely aren't the same thing," she says gently, reaching across the counter and setting a hand on the box to stop him lifting off with it. "But maybe that was intrusive. Sorry."

It certainly feels like it was deliberate, he thinks. "Well, I have two hungry girls, a dog in need of a walk and a very harassed babysitter at home. So, I'll just be..." He walks backwards to the door, his groceries making it a slow journey.

Katara smiles at him. "Goodnight, Sheriff. Come back soon."

"Yeah," Zuko agrees. His face feels suddenly warm for some reason. "I will."


	4. Chapter 4

Zuko's sitting on the sofa getting a glimpse into his future, which has somehow become his present.

"You're six years old. How is it possibly taking you this long to get dressed?" he calls up the stairs.

"Dad," Aya whines. "We need to decide. _Gawd_."

"Decide on what?"

There's no answer, so Zuko goes back to waiting.

When the girls do finally come downstairs, he does a double take. They're wearing the exact same outfit, sent recently by Grandma Ursa; striped sweater dresses, purple wooly tights and calf-high boots.

"You don't usually wear the same clothes," Zuko says. Which remains true, even if his mom ignores that memo. Aya's preferences are a little eclectic, Mari's more traditional.

"We rocked-papered-scissored for it seventeen times but we kept doing the same thing," Aya shrugs. "And these are our newest clothes."

"I see. How will Katara know who's who?" The only people who can tell the twins apart when they're in the same room are his family, Michi, Ms. Suki and Aang. What's not helping is that both of them are wearing their hair loose and pushed back with orange hair bands—a byproduct of Zuko once saying Saturday was a day to let your hair down that had been taken literally.

Aya tries to roll her eyes, but ends up rolling her entire head. "She'll know," she says dismissively. "Why aren't you ready?"

Zuko's looks down at his jeans. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" It's probably not what he's wearing but more that he hasn't changed for the Big Trip Across the Street.

"Never mind," Aya says, in her best dad-is-a-hopeless-case voice. "We need to go. I just have to get my purse."

 _Purse,_ Zuko mouths silently.

The excitement gives way to shyness once they're all in the store, the girls hiding behind Zuko, twisting their faces into his back.

"Oh," Katara says, appearing from the greenhouse. Her quick smile freezes and then slides from her face. "I thought you said you were bringing two princesses with you today."

Zuko mentally applauds her acting skills; she looks and sounds gutted.

"I thought so, too," he says. "But I seem to have lost them on the way. I guess I'll be going now—"

"Dad," Mari whispers fiercely. "We're here." She peeks out then, pushing at a reluctant Aya until she does the same.

Katara's eyes widen, and she strides forward regally until she's just in front of them. "You must be the Lady Mariko," she says, bending down on one knee. Zuko gives her props for guessing right.

Mari blushes, and puts her small hand in Katara's.

"Lady Ayaka?"

Aya holds her hand out timidly, and Katara raises it. "I'm Lady Katara, and I am delighted to have such esteemed company in my humble establishment."

Neither of the girls understand what that means but they've watched enough Disney to know that this is how real princesses talk. They're petrified with amazement.

"I'm mostly Mari and this is mostly Aya," Mari blurts, blushing some more.

"And I'm mostly Katara. You ladies have arrived just in time. I've just finished a fresh batch of chocolate frogs."

The girls are comically gobsmacked. "You have chocolate frogs?" Mari says, mouth trembling a little.

Katara stands and nods solemnly. "Uh-huh."

"Like in Harry Potter?" Aya whispers, awed.

"Uh-huh," Katara repeats, gesturing them closer. "Wanna know a secret?"

The girls nod, all big eyes and open mouths.

"I make all the chocolate frogs for Hogwarts," Katara whispers.

"You _do_?"

Zuko's heart clenches tight when Aya reaches for her sister's hand, so wholly overwhelmed by this revelation.

"I do. Maybe your dad could make sure none of them hop off while I show you ladies around?"

"He could," Mari says, eyes the size of dinner plates. "Dad is the Sheriff. He has handcuffs and a radio and a badge and everything. He'll stop the frogs from escaping."

"Is that right?" Katara asks, smirking at Zuko. "Well, in that case, let's go exploring."

"Don't let anything happen to the chocolate frogs, Dad," Aya warns, wagging a threatening finger.

"I wouldn't dare," Zuko promises. He settles back, listening to snippets of conversation as Katara guides the girls around the store.

"... and this candle is called Jasmine. Can you guess which princess this is named after… that's right. It's her favorite smell… those bottles aren't very interesting but this one here makes your tongue go black if you're a pirate… are you pirates? ...no? ...that's good… this plant?... lily of the valley… Princess Kate of England had a bouquet of it for her wedding, and so did Princess Grace of Monaco… it can be poisonous… you didn't watch Breaking Bad, right?...parsnips are Merida's favorite vegetable… no, I didn't know they were called yellow carrots… oh, you can't be an awesome princess if you don't eat your vegetables… scary turnips, really?"

Zuko snorts to himself, almost as charmed by Katara as his offspring are. If his own sister was here, even she'd be gushing about the adorableness of it all.

"Did any of the frogs get away?" Mari asks, flanking one side of Katara when they reappear.

"I bet you got them, Dad," Aya adds from the other side.

"There were a couple of close calls," Zuko says, holding up his fists. "But I took care of it."

"Yay, Dad," the girls chorus, and Zuko swings them up onto the counter so that Katara can deliver on her promise of frog shaped treats.

"They look gross," Zuko says, shaking his head when he's offered one. "What's in them?"

"Oats, carob, almond milk, mint, berries and honey."

Zuko wrinkles his nose. "Sound gross, too." But the twins are not put off at all, humming soft noises with every bite, trying to make each morsel last. Zuko laughs when they lick around their mouths, refusing to allow any taste to escape them.

"Try some, Dad," Mari says, and Zuko's beginning to say no, he'll pass, when she shoves a piece between his lips. He chews quickly to get rid of it, but then—"Man, that is good." It's chocolatey and sweet, and nothing like advertised. "How can something with carob in it taste this amazing?"

"Magic, Dad," Aya says. "Right, Katara?"

Katara winks at her. "Right, Aya." She leans across the counter. "So, is there anything else I can get for you today?"

Aya purses her lips and considers. "Do you have any disco balls?"

Katara holds up a finger. "You know…" she says thoughtfully, and disappears into the small store room, closing the door enough to be heard but not seen. There's a lot of shuffling and huffing, and Katara muttering to herself. "Now where did I ...no that's not it… what's in here… a rainbow… nope… fairy dust… nope… Santa's footprints… nope… Peter Pan's shadow… nope… ruby slippers… nope… aha!"

She comes back, disheveled and breathless, and holding up a dusty box. "Found it," she tells her captive audience. Zuko is just as amazed; he was sure she was going to return with regrets and apologies. "I haven't used this since I brought it to Ron and Hermione's wedding. Hope it still works."

It does work, dotting little lights across the ceiling and the walls that the girls gasp at while they finish chewing their frogs.

"And what about you, Mari," Katara asks. "What would you like?"

"Have you got any jewels?" Mari says immediately.

As it happens, she does, a great big box of ancient and tarnished looking costume jewelry that makes the girls gawp like fish. There's a story behind each piece Katara places on their heads or wrists. She seems very tuned into their appreciation of beautiful, brave, strong, ninja heroines.

"Can we buy it?" Mari asks. "All of it?"

"Oh, I don't know," Katara says, almost sadly. "It would be very hard for me to let all of this go. I think I could only give it to two very special girls."

Aya adjusts her bejeweled crown. "We're two special girls," she squeaks, like she's solving that problem for her.

"That's true," Katara says, tapping her chin. "You are."

"And we have five dollars," Mari adds. Her eyes are huge and hopeful, and Zuko is reminded again that he's probably going to kill anyone who makes her cry.

"Five dollars, eh?" Katara mutters, and she looks up to the ceiling thoughtfully, as if she's weighing all this up. The twins wait with bated breath. "Okay then, sold to the Ladies Mariko and Ayaka."

The girls' heavy arms clang as they high five each other in delight.

"Right," Zuko says, calling a halt to proceedings before his children keel over with excitement. "It's time we got going. Appa needs a walk."

"And I need to get the rest of this shipment to Hogwarts," Katara says, putting an end to any protests before they start. Zuko smiles at her gratefully.

"Can we come back again?" Mari asks, and Katara crouches down to answer her.

"Anytime you like, Mari. Anytime."

::

On paper, policing in Eerie Falls is a cinch. The last recorded murder was over a hundred years ago, the bank hasn't been robbed since the first world war, there's never been a kidnapping, and violence is pretty much contained to scuffling outside the rundown pub Bar Sing Se after closing time. It's mostly petty stuff; a little fraud, traffic violations, vandalism, truancy, underage drinking, and public nuisance.

Squabbles are what take up the bulk of Zuko's time. So far this week he's had to mediate between Divya Das and Len Weston over a property boundary line, call out to the Hall farm with complaints about dog barking, and go looking for Mo Ngo's lamb in Henna Pray's flock.

That's three nights he hasn't been home to put his girls to bed, and tonight isn't looking any different. June and Hama are deadlocked in a dispute over a hand mixer.

"Tell her that I only lent it to her, and I've been waiting almost a year to get it back," June spits.

"Tell _her_ that she 'lent' it to me in a sealed box with a Christmas bow on it," Hama snaps back.

"Tell _her_ that I wouldn't give her the time of day, never mind a Christmas gift."

"Tell _her_ that she had no problem giving me the time of day until last Tuesday when I said that her front curtains were looking a little shabby."

"Tell _her_ that my front curtains…"

Zuko sighs into his hands. He could walk away, tell them to sort this out themselves. But that's never worked out in the past. On one memorable occasion, he'd refused to get involved in an argument involving a tree that was overgrowing into the neighbor's garden.

"I'm sure you can work this out between yourselves," he'd said. "You're both reasonable men."

He'd been naive back then, green and wet behind the ears.

Five minutes after Zuko left, Jimmy Kim got to chopping down the entire tree, and Jo Mohan had retaliated by digging up all of Jimmy's plants.

By the morning, two of Jimmy's windows had been smashed, there was a fire smoldering on Jo's lawn, and it had taken three deputies to stop the duel Jimmy and Jo were having with garden rakes.

"This town is full of hateful, bitter people," Zuko tells Aang when he gets home, having convinced June and Hama to temporarily operate a weekly timeshare for the mixer. "The girls still awake?"

"They're brushing their teeth," Aang says before stuffing his mouth with something that looks disgusting but smells like heaven.

"Hellions," Zuko calls up the stairs.

"Dad," Mari shouts. "You're home."

"Yay," Aya screams.

"We're brushing our teeth."

"And there's toothpaste on the mirror."

"It got there because we're brushing our teeth."

"Cool," Zuko says, shrugging his jacket off. "I'll be up in five minutes for some minty-fresh kisses."

"And Katara left lasagna," Aya shouts.

Zuko walks quickly back into the kitchen. "What's this about lasagna?"

"It's so good," Aang says, nodding happily.

"Where did it come from?"

"We found it on the doorstep when we got back from walking Appa."

Zuko stares at him. "You gave my kids food that you found on the doorstep?"

"Relax," Aang says, pointing to the counter. "There was a note."

Zuko picks up a yellow post-it covered with a messy scrawl. _Eggplant lasagna. Enjoy! (I had time on my hands :)) Katara._

"Here," Aang is saying. "Have some. It's delicious."

Zuko reaches for the plate being shoved at him, and sits down wearily in the chair. Aang's right; it's the best thing Zuko's eaten in days.

"Like," Aang says, "I'm pretty sure this is made with non-dairy cheese, which is the worst. And I don't even know what these little black things are. How on earth does it all taste so good?"

"Magic, apparently," Zuko says around his stuffed mouth.

::

He's wedged between the girls on the bed, Mari telling the tale of his current plight. "Prince Zuko was trapped in the dungeon, and the mean dragon wouldn't let him out and she turned everyone who tried to rescue him into toast. She turned their heads into toast, and their feet into toast, and their guts into toast."

"Gruesome," Zuko says. Almost admirably so.

"And one day she was going to turn Prince Zuko into toast—"

"Why?" Zuko asks, indignant for his alter ego.

"Because he interrupted a lot," Mari says darkly.

"Oh."

"So, she opened her mouth, and Prince Zuko could see the flame that lived in her throat, all red and mad, and it was coming closer, and it was nearly on his guts when the dungeon door burst open and Prince Zuko was saved."

"Phew," Zuko breathes. "That was scary for a moment. Thank goodness for those beautiful, brave, strong, ninja princesses."

"It wasn't them," Aya chimes in, breaking the rule of never hijacking another story, but Mari doesn't object. "It was someone else."

"Was it," Zuko wonders, pausing for effect, "by any chance, a tiger?"

The girls shake their heads. "It was Lady Katara," Mari says.

"It was?" Zuko says, a little thrown.

"Yep, and she slayed the dragon, and everyone lived happily ever after."

"I see."

"Isn't that a nice story, Dad?" Aya asks.

"Sure is, kiddo," Zuko says, smiling. He feels like a traitor, and he'd never tell the girls this, but he doesn't do happy ever after. It's enough to be content with what he has right now.


	5. Chapter 5

Zuko runs into Katara at the mini-mart on Friday afternoon, and it's a little weird for a minute—seeing her outside of her store, holding a basket of groceries.

"Why do I feel like I'm cheating on you?" Zuko says. "Although maybe I've caught you cheating. You can't grow your own toothpaste?"

"You can actually," Katara says seriously. "Well, you can make it, with baking soda, sea salt, and some peppermint oil. But." She shrugs down at her basket, her smile almost sheepish. "It's Friday. You're allowed to be lazy on Friday."

"Weak," Zuko says, grinning. But he has little argument with that philosophy, making his way through aisles, picking up ready-made pancake mix, a frozen garlic ciabatta and other bits to see them through the weekend. He's tugging his uncooperative cart towards the checkout when he stops. Fifteen minutes ago, Katara was the second person in a line of four. Now she's the only one left, and Hama still hasn't beckoned her forward. Hama isn't even pretending to be preoccupied by anything, and Zuko feels a little sickened by her blatant rudeness.

"Sheriff," Hama says, gesturing for Zuko to approach the till.

"I think Katara is next," Zuko says through gritted teeth. "Didn't you see her there? Standing directly in front of you?"

Hama drags reluctant eyes towards Katara. "Next," she snaps, and proceeds to make her way slowly through Katara's basket, announcing every item and leaving her to bag up her own groceries.

Zuko steps up to help. "So, hey," he says, his voice weirdly loud. "Thanks for the lasagna. I've been meaning to bring the dish back to you, but the girls wouldn't let me do it without them. We'll drop by tomorrow. There's something they're dying to ask you anyway."

Hama's eyes narrow sharply and Zuko can hear the spiteful thoughts rattle around her vacuous mind.

"It would be great to see them again," Katara says, smiling widely even when Hama slaps her change on the counter, as if pressing it into her hand might result in catching something. Katara doesn't react other than to pick it up and drop it into a nearby charity box.

"Thank you," Katara tells Hama warmly. "Have a nice day."

It's the way that Hama harrumphs that just sits hard on Zuko's last nerve. "Are you doing anything tonight?" he asks as Katara lifts her bags.

"No?" Katara says, brows raised.

"Want to go for a drink? Bar Sing Se isn't fancy, and the natives aren't exactly friendly, but the beer is tolerable."

"Okay," Katara says, surprised but pleased. "See you at…?"

"Nine?" Zuko suggests, and smiles saccharine sweet at Hama as he begins unloading his cart. "The girls should be down for the night by then."

"Perfect," Katara says, beaming. The goodbye that she gives Hama is painfully earnest. And completely ignored.

"It's not my business, Sheriff," Hama says as soon the door closes again. "But you should keep your girls away from that store."

Zuko takes a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds. "You're right." He waits for her to nod before adding, "It's not your business. And I'll thank you to keep it that way."

Hama stiffens, her eyes narrowing to angry slits. "Their mother—" She stops, too late, and Zuko watches as she wilts under the fury of his glare, his jaw tightening from the effort of not saying anything, for not telling her what a vicious, mean-spirited, nasty, _hateful_ —

"I… " she begins and then claps her mouth shut. She swallows loudly, once, then twice, her head dropping as she begins packing the groceries. Zuko stares at her unwaveringly, almost choking with anger, breathing slowly in and out as she bags up.

"You know what, Hama," he says evenly when she's finished. "I think I've left my wallet at the station."

Her eyes drop to the telltale bulk in his pocket. "Um, that's okay, Sheriff, you can drop in later, I guess?"

"Wouldn't dream of such an imposition," Zuko says coldly, already backing out of the store. "I'd help you put all this stuff back, but..."

He really doesn't fucking want to.

When he gets home, there's a casserole covered with a dishcloth on the step. "Freaky," he mutters to himself, but he's empty handed and not in much of a position to question this stroke of good fortune.

::

"So," he huffs, after dinner has been scarfed. "You guys mind if I go out tonight?"

"Dad, twirl," Aya demands as Taylor Swift belts out from the iPad. She hops in circles, shaking her already wild hair into something Zuko's dreading having to brush tomorrow.

"Where?" Mari asks, smoothing out her tutu as she starts to prance around the room. Zuko follows her, trying to appear gazelle-like.

"Just for a beer with Katara."

"Like a date?" Mari pants, hands in the air as she bounces up and down.

"No," Zuko says quickly, still dancing.

Four is the number of dates that Zuko has been on since Mai. And four is the number of sudden stomach bugs that ended those dates. So much vomit; he has no idea how the girls pulled it off. It just hadn't been worth it—not the disappointed look on his date's face, not the compensation he had to pay to the babysitter, not the loads and loads of laundry, not the sleeping on towels when they ran out of sheets, not the distress of his kids. "Not a date, so there's no need for anybody to get sick, or throw up, or anything like that. I'll only be gone for a few hours."

Aya starts doing something a little strange with her hips. Zuko tries to make his go likewise. "Why do people say mean things about Katara, Dad?" she asks.

"Darren Walden said that his dad said that Katara drinks baby blood," Mari adds.

"Isn't Darren Walden the kid that got his foot jammed in the school toilet?" Zuko says. "Twice?"

Mari nods before turning around and twerking. _Jesus_. "And one time he sneezed puke everywhere, and then he wiped it off an apple and then he ate the apple, and Dad, it wasn't even his apple."

Zuko shakes his own butt. "Well then."

"He's really dumb, Dad," Aya adds, waving imaginary pom-poms in front of her.

Zuko feels himself deflate a little. "You didn't pull his hair, did you?" They're currently at twelve school days Without Incident.

"No," she says, moonwalking across the room before adding, "It's too short."

The song ends, Zuko bent in half, hands on his knees and struggling for breath.

"Ready for _Despacito_?" Mari asks, already keying it into the iPad.

Zuko's ready for a nice lie down. "Bring it," he huffs.

::

Katara's already at Bar Sing Se when Zuko arrives, sitting in a booth, and seemingly unaware of the curious and hostile glances being thrown at her. "Hey," she says warmly when Zuko throws his coat down next to her.

"Hi," Zuko says, lips quirking. "Thanks for dinner. Drinks on me."

"I'll have a bottle of Dom Perignon then," Katara says, and Zuko laughs.

"Bless your heart for thinking such a thing exists around here. Will a beer do?"

"Perfectly."

All eyes shift to Zuko as he crosses the sticky floor to the counter. "Remember to bring your wallet, Sheriff?" Garth Walden drawls, slinging a dirty dishrag over his shoulder.

Zuko's not even a little bit surprised that word has travelled so quickly. Hama has doubtless been on the phone since Zuko left the store. The dogs on the street are probably barking about it.

"I'll have a beer," Zuko says around a sarcastic smile. "And Katara will have a tumbler of your finest baby blood."

Garth's lazy demeanor immediately becomes sharper, his nose twitching like he needs to sneeze.

"All out?" Zuko asks, slapping a bill onto the counter. "Well, we'll take two beers then. You'll bring them to the table, yeah? Also, cut him off." He jerks a thumb at Long Feng who is leaning precariously on the bar, one unsteady elbow supporting him.

"Jesus," he says, flopping down beside Katara and fishing his phone from his jacket. "Sorry about...everyone."

"It's fine," Katara says, looking around at the lounge. Most of the patrons are in sullen pairs or volatile threes, all of them hunched and sour. Conversation is nothing but hums and snarls. "They're okay."

"This is the Hallmark version of the town that kindness forgot," Zuko snorts. "They're not okay. They're _mean_. Mean and bitter and petty and spiteful." He doesn't lower his voice as Garth comes closer to drop two bottles onto the table, leaving again without even acknowledging Katara's thanks.

"Not all of them, surely."

"No," Zuko concedes. "But enough of them to suck the life out of this place. I can only imagine what sort of energy readings you're getting in here."

"Sad, mostly," Katara says, because she chooses to either misunderstand his mockery or ignore it. "There's a lot of hurt in this room."

"God," Zuko groans. "You're just a great big hippie, aren't you. I can see you up there in your mansion, meditating with your vegetables, gathering wool from your angora goats, and I dunno, riding around on your vegan bicycle."

"Angora wool comes from rabbits," Katara says. Worryingly, she doesn't correct him about anything else he's just said.

Zuko takes a long pull from his beer and sinks further into the chair. "Is that Canada I hear in your vowels?"

Katara is fiercely proud in her yes, and she's happy to talk about her family who are all disappointingly normal. She regretfully tells Zuko that no, her mom isn't a doula. "She works for the credit union. My dad's an electrician." Just the one older sibling, Sokka, who's a pharmacist and absolutely not a life coach for dolphins. She's less candid about herself, open enough about her idyllic childhood spent playing every known sport and essentially being allergic to indoors, but more vague about life post-Canada. Spent a bit of time in Europe, and then moved south, Louisiana mostly, studying, and Jesus, _no_ , not the dark arts. A little holistic medicine, plants, herbs, oils, that kind of thing. Some healing stuff, also.

"Like that Reiki shi… business?" Zuko says, holding up two fingers to Garth.

"You know Reiki?"

"Is that the one with needles?"

"That's acupuncture."

"Really? I thought that one was feet?"

"Reflexology."

"Seven bucks," Garth says, like he's announcing a plague. He slams two more bottles onto the table, and shows no interest in taking the empties away. He does, however, look interested in policing the fun Katara and Zuko seem to be having, and probably would, if Zuko wasn't the actual police.

Katara insists on paying, taking out a ten and telling Garth to keep the change. Garth shows his appreciation by taking the bill with a pained grunt.

"And there's a living to be earned in all your hippie… stuff?" Zuko asks. He already knows that money isn't an issue, having done enough sleuthing to discover that Katara owns the store and the Mourns outright. Which is a hell of a commitment. And probably one she will regret soon.

"I do okay," she says, shrugging. "Everything good?"

Zuko looks away from checking his phone again and winces guiltily. "Sorry. I know it's rude, but I'm always afraid that I won't hear it."

"It's fine," Katara says.

"It's really isn't."

Katara smiles and raises her bottle. "Bothers some people, eh?" she says, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

"Dates, you know," Zuko says, squirming a little. "It makes quite the statement when you put the phone down in the middle of the table beside the dinner candle. Like you can't even make that person your priority for the next couple of hours." He shrugs awkwardly. "Not that it really mattered. The girls hated it, and I probably wasn't wowing anyone with my dazzling conversation about light-up sneakers and dog nail polish."

"And the girls' mom? Can I ask about her?"

"She died," Zuko says bluntly, because he's never found a better way of saying it. "Went out to pick up some diapers and got into an argument with a delivery truck. The delivery truck won."

"I'm sorry," Katara says genuinely. There's nothing shifty about the way she says it. Her eyes aren't flitting over Zuko's shoulder and she isn't inching away in discomfort, like loss might be contagious. "I can't even imagine."

"You probably shouldn't try," Zuko advises. He'd sludged through the following eighteen months, not even knowing how he was going to feel on any given day. Sick for his girls when they looked around for someone that wasn't there anymore, their little faces twisted with confusion. Sorry for himself when he paced the floor with at least one screaming baby at four a.m.. Exhausted when he got home from the station, his real day's work waiting for him. Devastated for Mai, for missing out on smiles and first steps. Angry for himself because he'd only started to get to really know her. Cheated for both of them just settling into this shotgun marriage. "We met when Mai came to a bachelorette party down in Caldera City, which is where I'm from. I followed her back here and we were married six months later."

"Whirlwind romance?"

"Whirlwind pregnancy. The girls were born four months after the wedding. It was the longest running scandal around here until you arrived to take the heat off me."

"Glad to be of service," Katara laughs. "You didn't think about going back to your home town with the girls?"

"Many times," he admits. "But my family would have taken over, and I was enough of a mess to let them. It just felt like if I was to step up and be a proper dad, I'd have to do it here. And I didn't really want to take them away from Michi. That's Mai's mom, and Mai was basically an only child—she lost a brother when he was just a baby. They used to run a huge florist shop here in town."

"There's a florist here?"

"Not anymore," Zuko says, shaking his head and pushing himself up. "Another beer?"

"If you have time."

Zuko glances down at his silent phone. "Looks like I do."

He has to go the restroom on the way, and is walking back when he sees Long Feng take one of his many tumbles from the high bar stool, his shoe snagging around the footrest. There's a smaller stool just where his head is going to land and Zuko has a horrible vision of the next moment flashing through his mind. He opens his mouth to shout and snaps it closed when the stool moves and Long Feng hits the floor unharmed. Garth is on him before he gets too comfortable, hauling him back up by the collar and dragging to him towards the door.

Katara looks puzzled when Zuko arrives back at their booth. "Drinks?" she says when Zuko blinks at her.

"Oh yeah, sorry. Had to go to the bathroom." He squints back at the bar. "How many have we had?"

"Two," Katara says, nodding at the four empty bottles on the table. "Why?"

"Did you see Long Feng fall?"

"Yeah, think he's okay, though."

"He is," Zuko says, watching as Garth returns, picking up the toppled stool and pushing it neatly against the counter. "But that was weird."

"Falling?" she asks. "Not really. He's wasted."

"Not the fall," Zuko says impatiently. He turns to look at her. "The stool. The one Long Feng should have hit his head off. I could have sworn I saw it move. As in, just move by itself." He shakes his head. "I must be more tired than I thought."

"If you're too tired, we can call it a—"

"No," Zuko interrupts. He really doesn't want to leave yet.

"Then get to the bar," Katara suggests. "Unless the drinks move by themselves, too. And hurry up, I want to hear all about dog nail polish."

"Man, have you come to the right guy," Zuko laughs, heading back to get another round.


	6. Chapter 6

The house is in darkness when Zuko gets home, which means that Michi is in the girls' room, where she's probably been all night. Zuko snaps on the light, and quietly calls out that he's home. He's kicking off his sneakers when she appears at the top of the stairs. "Hey," he says. "Everything good?"

Michi comes down and reaches for her shawl, wrapping it around her tiny, hunched shoulders. "Fine," she says without looking at him, flicking at the long strands of her coarse, grey hair that fall most of the way down her back. She looks like a fairytale witch who has fallen on hard times, her clothes shapeless and black, like she dresses only in grief now. Once upon a Mai ago, she never left her house without looking immaculate; now she just never leaves her house unless tempted out with some one-on-one time with the twins. It's hard to remember a time when her laughter was so loud that it was practically raucous. Back then, before life played its cruelest card, before they buried the best part of her with her child.

"The girls have a recital in a couple of weeks," Zuko says, even though it's a waste of his breath. "I mean, they're pretty terrible, practically tone deaf, but they've been working really hard and they'd be so excited to see you—"

"I'd be happy to take the girls anytime you can't," she says, eyes cast on the floor.

Zuko sighs. "Or maybe you'd like to come to dinner next week. Mari's taken this interest in cooking—"

"Anytime at all. Just let me know when you're working, or…going out to enjoy yourself."

Slam dunk for her. Zuko resists the urge to deny any enjoyment, remembering Katara laughing at his dumb jokes. "You're welcome here whenever," he says.

"If the girls need me, let me know," she tells the front door before opening it.

It's like they're having two entirely separate conversations. "You're their grandmother, they'll always need you."

She doesn't answer, doesn't return his wave just before she drives away. It's like she's forgotten he's there—just like she seems to have forgotten his name and the fact that they used to be friends. She's something else that they all lost when Mai died.

::

The door to the Bell, Book, and Candle opens before they reach it, and Zuko has to tug on the twins' hands to stop them and allow Aunt Wu to step outside.

"Good morning," she says formally, already on her way down the street before anyone answers her. Zuko stares after her curiously.

Katara's at the counter, flicking through a couple of impressively large and leather-bound books.

"New customer?" Zuko asks, smiling. "Are we breaking out the champagne and ticker-tape?"

"Kind of the other way around," Katara answers, smiling down at the girls while tucking the books away on a shelf. "Aunt Wu's the librarian."

"We know," Mari says. "But we have to go all the way to the library. Why does she bring the books to you?"

"Well," Katara says, leaning over the counter. "Sometimes Aunt Wu brings books to people who can't get to the library. People who are sick, people who work very long hours." Her voice drops to a whisper, "People who have to stop the chocolate frogs from hopping away."

"Aaaah," the girls say, copying Katara when she taps her nose.

Zuko rolls his eyes as he sets Katara's cleaned casserole dish down carefully. This woman has an answer for everything. It's going to be fun watching her squirm out of what's coming.

"So," Mari says, dispensing of the pleasantries and getting right to the point. "We have twenty-two dollars, and that's a lot of money."

"It certainly is," Zuko blurts. "Where did you get twenty-two dollars from?"

Mari frowns at him. "We put our money together. Ten dollars pocket-money from you, ten dollars that Grandma Michi gave us last night, and Toph gave us a dollar each if we promised not to tell you that she said lots of swears when she tripped on the rug." She nods at her sister, who solemnly takes a bundle of notes from her purse and presents them to Katara.

"This is all our money," Mari continues. "And we'd like to buy a tiger, please. Dad says he's cool with it."

"I'm totally cool with it," Zuko agrees. He's been cool with it since the girls let him into their buying a tiger plan at breakfast.

Katara smiles back at him. "A tiger, eh?" she says. She straightens and catches a stool with her ankle, dragging it to sit facing the girls. "I do happen to have a tiger, but she's not for sale. She lives in my house, just like Appa lives at your house."

"Oh," Mari says, torn between disappointment and understanding.

"When can we see her?" Aya asks, stuffing the bills back into her purse.

"How about now?" Katara says, and goes into the back room, leaving Zuko gaping after her. There had better not be an actual tiger out there.

One the other hand, the girls are vibrating with excitement, so there had better be an actual tiger out there.

It isn't a tiger—it's a tiny siamese kitten that wiggles up Katara's arm when she takes her from the box.

"She's amazing," Aya squeaks, holding out grabby hands and making a strangled noise of delight when Katara settles the kitten into them.

"This is Momo," Katara tells her.

"Best tiger ever," Mari whispers. Her fingers are so gentle as they rub down the not-a-tiger's fur.

"You like her?" Katara asks.

"We _love_ her," Mari says, as if that's the most stupid question she's ever heard. "Are you going to bring her to the store every day?"

"I'm thinking about it," Katara says, nodding her head seriously. "I'm going to put a note up in the window to see if I can find two special helpers who can come in after school and play with her for a while so she doesn't get bored."

The high pitched fallout from that can probably only be heard by dogs. "We're two special helpers," Aya reminds Katara once she's collected herself.

"Well, how about that," Katara says slowly, and Zuko groans loud enough for the girls to remember that he's there.

"What do you think, Dad?" Mari asks.

"I think," Zuko says dryly, "that Katara could say snow is salt and sell it to the North Pole."

"We don't know what that means," Mari huffs.

"It means," Katara says diplomatically, guiding the girls over to the library where they can sit in the beanbags and allow the kitten to crawl all over them. "That you guys might like to read Momo a story. _The Tiger Who Came To Tea_ is her favorite."

"That's our favorite, too," Mari gasps.

Zuko has given up even pretending to be surprised by all these coincidences. "That's not at all what I meant," he complains when Katara comes back.

"You're welcome," Katara says, smiling like she's been complimented.

"Oh fuck off," Zuko says, quiet and bemused.

Katara's smile grows even bigger, blue eyes shining. "Never."

::

Zuko is on call, as he is every Halloween night, but he's managed to talk Toph into promising not to phone him until after trick-or-treating.

Aya is first down the stairs, Appa trailing her. "Well, hello there, Tinkerbell, and um…" He stares down at Appa's burgundy and yellow scarf, and lensless glasses. "Harry Potter."

Aya shoots him a disappointed look, taking in his clothes that are more uniform than costume. "Well, hello there, _Sheriff_ Dad," she says sourly.

"Hey," Zuko protests. "I might not have to go in at all, but if I do, you guys can ride along in the cruiser."

Aya humphs, unimpressed. "That means we'll miss Katara's party. Did you forget that Katara is having a party in her store?"

Zuko hasn't been allowed to forget, although he has a sinking feeling that he and the girls might be the only invited guests who actually show up. "We can still go to the party," he insists. For some of it, anyway. It's been the talk of the dinner table all week, in between updates on Momo. " _She likes it when we squeeze her… She keeps getting so big when we're not looking… Aang says she's the most awesome tiger he's ever seen._ "

"Ready," Mari announces, galloping down the stairs in a purple wig and dress.

"Weren't you going as Elsa?" Zuko squints at the costume, but nothing is ringing a bell.

"Changed my mind," Mari says easily. "Aunt Azula got this for me."

"Right," Zuko says, desperately racking his brain. "And, so, you're…"

"This," Mari says, gesturing at herself unhelpfully.

"Of course," Zuko says. "You look very…" Purple. She definitely looks purple. He's thinking about sending a quick text to his sister for help, but he's busted before he even gets his phone out of his pocket.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" Mari says, hands on hips.

"Pfft, I most certainly do. You're…"

"Princess Bubblegum." The hips are swinging dangerously now. "From Adventure Time."

"I know that," Zuko lies, ducking his eyes and grabbing his keys. Halloween was a whole lot less complicated when he was a kid. "Let's go."

The girls skip towards the door, grabbing their pumpkin pails on the way. "You're on watch, Dad, right?" Aya says, holding hers up. "In case anyone tries to sneak some fruit in there."

"Just let them try," Zuko says darkly, jiggling the handcuffs at his waist.

Their street is busy enough. Zuko hands out bags of candy to passing monsters, superheroes, princesses, witches, and a lone bumble-bee. Despite the traffic, only about eight houses are participating in the festivities, and Zuko really wants to pound on Jeong Jeong's door until the curmudgeonly old bastard answers. And he would, if he wasn't pretty certain that the sweetest things in Jeong Jeong's cupboards are pickled prunes.

The girls are so eager to get to the party that they don't make it beyond their own street. Zuko doesn't argue; Aya's fingers are starting to look a little blue despite the long-sleeved sweater she's wearing under her dress, and Mari's wig keeps slipping into her eyes.

Katara's also dressed to impress, swishing across the store in a long navy robe, fastened below her neck with a shiny blue stone.

"Labradorite?" Aya asks, when Katara crouches down beside her. "Is it real?"

Her cloak does look kind of real, heavy and lined, and there's detailed silver brocade stitching surrounding the hems. It's not like anything Zuko's ever seen in a party shop.

"What do you think?" Katara says, lifting Aya's hand to cover the stone.

Aya's smile is instant and huge. "It's real," she says.

"Clever Tinkerbell! And Princess Bonnibel," she says, swerving to face Mari, who's trying to shake the windswept leaves from her wig. "You look very pretty tonight."

"Actually, Katara," Zuko says. "That's Princess Bubblegum."

Mari and Katara grin at each other. " _Actually_ , Dad," Mari sniffs. "Princess Bubblegum's real name is Princess Bonnibel."

Of course it is.

He pulls a face at Katara, who laughs back and introduces herself to Appa, formally shaking the dog's paw. Appa, hussy that he is, rolls over onto his back for a belly rub, legs trembling in the air when Katara obliges and coos at him. "Who's a handsome guy, eh?"

The girls are very excited about the dog meeting the tiger, but Momo is sleeping out in the back room. "There'll be a lot of people in here later and it might get too loud for her little ears," Katara explains. "We'll see her after, but first let's get some witches' brew. I made it extra gross for Halloween."

"Did you put bugs in it?" Aya asks.

"And eyeballs?" Mari chirps.

"Yep," Katara promises. "I even sneezed in it, and everything."

Zuko's chest tightens when he looks around at all the effort Katara has made with the store. There are candles burning behind the counter, safely out of reach, giving off warm scents of spiced oranges and berries. Cartoon cut-outs of ghouls and goblins hang from the ceiling, and there are bobbing basins on small tables between stashes of candy and treats. She's stirring a ladle through a cauldron of soda, a giant stack of paper cups wobbling beside it, even though they're only going to need four.

Zuko vows to let the girls drink the stuff until they get sick. He'll help out if needed.

The door flies open just as the girls are taking their first sips. A small kid in a black hoodie with a wolf mask and claw gloves jumps up and down. "Baby blood, baby blood, baby blood," he chants gleefully.

Aya is on her feet in seconds. "You shut up, Darren Walden. You….you just shut up." Zuko should say something about her language but he's not going to do it in front of this snotty kid who's actually checking to see if his mask is still on.

"How did you know it was me?" Darren wonders.

"Because you're a meanie," Mari says, flanking her sister. "And this isn't baby blood. It's witches brew, so there." She lifts the cup to her nose and sniffs, rising up to her tiptoes as she inhales. "Mm mm mm mm. _Mmmmmmm_."

Darren Walden scampers out again, and the girls clink their cups together proudly. He's back seconds later, dragging his mom behind him like she's a stubborn dog on a leash. "I want some witches brew," he demands.

You want some manners, Zuko thinks.

"Sure," Katara says, smiling genially. "Although there are some rules."

Darren pushes his mask up and scrunches his spiteful face. "What rules?" he asks sullenly.

"Well," Katara says, still cheerful and pleasant. "You have to earn it by bobbing for an apple."

"Try not to be sick on it," Aya mutters, and Zuko has to hide his snort up his sleeve.

He's left making some awkward _how 'bout them Yankees_ conversation with Mrs. Walden, a sour looking woman who keeps looking at the door like she desperately wants to get out. But it only opens to allow more people in, reluctant and curious parents trailing kids who have all heard about the witches' brew. Zuko watches the cup stack decrease as Katara serves up, taking the time to speak to every adult and child, even though she gets little more than mumbles in response.

The kids gather together near the books, inspecting each other's hauls, while the parents wander around the shop, poking distastefully at Katara's wares, sniggering in a way that makes Zuko set his teeth.

He excuses himself from a weird conversation with Lily Chu about legal poisons to take a call from Toph, a _get here now_ summons.

"Where's Katara?" he asks when he turns around again.

Lily nods towards the door, and Zuko finds Katara outside, lifting Zhao's arm to inspect a cut on his hand. Her hair, long and gleaming, is falling over her shoulder. Mari is standing beside them, holding Zhao's glove.

"Zhao cut his hand on the window box," Mari narrates, nodding to the flower boxes on the shop's sill. "He said he was looking at the primroses when it happened."

"Those window boxes are dangerous," Zhao says. He looks around shiftily, embarrassed to have been caught skulking where he'd sooner be caught dead.

"Not to people who keep their hands to themselves," Zuko says mildly.

"It's not too bad," Katara is saying quietly, and Zuko finds himself wincing not at the superficial cut, but at the swollen and misshapen joints that Zhao always keeps hidden under his gloves.

The door chimes when Aya comes out, a small jar in her hand. "Is this the one?" she asks.

Katara smells it, and winks at her. "Good job," she says, dipping her finger in and carefully spreading an ointment over the cut. She rubs it over Zhao's thumb and forefinger, gently pressing into the joints, into the gnarls that were once knuckles.

"Good as new," she says, holding her palms up.

Zhao examines his hand for any further damage. "I'll thank you to not leave sharp objects where people can harm themselves in future," he says frostily, grabbing his glove back, and stomping off down the street.

"Jesus," Zuko mumbles. "How's that for gratitude."

"He is very rude," Aya agrees.

"True story, kiddo," Zuko says, pushing the door open. "We have to go now. Get your things."

"Aw, Dad," Mari whines. "Five more minutes?"

"No can do, Princess Bubblegum," he says, stepping into the store behind the girls. "Let's roll."

"But we want to stay," Aya shouts, face dark with dismay. "We haven't even done the witch piñata yet. And that's going to be the best bit."

Zuko winces when that silences the room, all eyes honing hungrily in on his domestic.

"We can stay with Katara," Mari says. Her wig is freshly askew in distress.

Zuko feels itchy under the weight of his audience. No one even pretends they aren't watching, little mean smirks curling on their lips. Katara looks a little uncertain, and suddenly that's really what Zuko cares about.

"Would you mind?" he asks, fully enjoying the collective eyebrow raising. "I don't want to impose."

"Not at all," Katara says, smiling a little gratefully.

"Cool," Zuko says loudly. "I'll be back in a couple of weeks. A month, at the latest. Definitely by Christmas."

::

Three hours, four bonfires, two brawls, one car chase, and six arrests later, Zuko pushes the door of Bell, Book, and Candle open. The place is a pit of chaos. There are cups and candy wrappers littered everywhere, and the carcass of the piñata witch is swaying eerily, her legs bashed clean off. The soles of his boots stick to the floor that earlier was pristine and shiny white.

He finds Katara sitting in the little library, a large book settled on her lap. The girls are asleep on the beanbags, Katara's cape covering them. Momo is wrestling with an uncooperative Appa, biting at his ear and pouncing back for a chase.

"Hey," Katara says quietly, closing the book and shoving it under a bench. "How was it?"

"Crazy enough that I would have had to bring the girls to Michi's," Zuko answers. "Thanks for watching them."

"My pleasure," Katara says. "You want a drink?" She's already up and walking towards the back of the store.

"How did things go here?" Zuko asks, settling himself down on the floor near his children, moving Mari's twitching foot and smiling when she smacks her lips a few times. There's a blob of candy stuck somewhere near her temple, and he hopes there's no more in her hair. He tugs the cape down gently, but he can't see much of his other daughter, her face covered by her own unruly mop.

"It was okay," Katara says, a little louder now that she's further away. "Although I thought I was going to have to call you more than once."

Zuko looks up sharply. "Were the girls—"

"Oh, no," Katara laughs. "Not for the girls. Not for any of the kids. It was the adults that couldn't behave themselves. I finally got rid of them all about nine, and the girls passed out twenty minutes later, halfway through telling me a bedtime story. Kind of left me hanging, too."

Zuko could spare her the suspense; every single story ends the same way nowadays, with Lady Katara saving Prince Zuko from some unfortunate predicament. Personally, Zuko is a little offended for Prince Zuko, who really needs to develop a better skill-set than shouting _hayelp_ from wherever it is he's being held captive. His girls really seem to think that he's in need of being saved.

"Thanks," he says, taking the short glass Katara hands him, and balking when the stench all but punches him in the face. "Jesus, what's in this?"

"It's Laphroaig," Katara says, settling down again. "Comes from the Hebrides in Scotland."

Zuko thinks it should have stayed there. He can smell it without even having to sniff. "It stinks like burnt wood."

"Tastes like it, too." Katara takes a small sip and sighs, her eyes closing in contentment, eyelashes shading down her cheek. It's a good look on her. "Try it, it's festive."

Zuko takes a breath before knocking the drink back and immediately gagging. "Ugh," he says, slapping his chest until the urge to cough stops. He blinks the sting from his eyes, although it takes a few seconds for his vision to clear. "Wow, that's rank," he wheezes.

"It's not a shot, Zuko," Katara scolds, but she's laughing. "It's supposed to be savored, enjoyed slowly."

Zuko's skeptical. "I'm pretty sure you mean _endured_."

"Heathen," she says, still smiling a little, and Zuko smiles back, despite the foul taste in his mouth.

"So, this is some special occasion drink, huh?"

"It's often had on Halloween," Katara says. "And yes, we're celebrating."

What exactly, Zuko wonders. The store's a shambles and he's not too sure that tonight is going to make any difference to Katara's sales tomorrow. But she looks relaxed and peaceful in a way that would wrong to taint. "In that case," he says, lifting his glass. "Cheers. Okay, no, sorry. I really can't drink that, Jesus. But you know, cheers anyway."

Katara laughs again and clinks their glasses together before taking Zuko's from him. "All the more for me," she says cheerfully.

Zuko leans back and closes his eyes for a minute. "Have to go in tomorrow. Sunday is usually my day off, but the cells at the station are full and it'll be such a mess in the morning." He slits his eyes open and finds Katara watching him, her expression fond. "What?" he asks, liking the scrutiny. "Something on my face?"

"Girls going to Michi's?"

"Yeah," Zuko sighs, shifting a little. His ass is getting numb. "I'm going to be relying on her a lot now that Aang's put himself on a three day week to get some more of his thesis paper done."

"I can help out with the girls," Katara says, and Zuko is so surprised that he can't answer for a few seconds.

"God, no," he says, horrified by any obligation or imposition Katara might have taken. "That wasn't what I… I wasn't _hinting_ , and there's no way I could ask you to… Michi loves having them, anyway."

"Okay," Katara says easily. "But Aang brings them in everyday for an hour or so. They feed the cat while he freeloads my wifi."

"Shit, sorry. I knew they were dropping by, but I didn't know they were taking advantage—"

"That's not what I said," Katara says, sharp. "And it's not what I meant. I'm the one who asks them to stay." She shrugs, looking down at her glass. "I like the company. I wouldn't mind more of it."

"Oh," Zuko says. "Well." He feels bad for her being stuck in an empty store all day long, but he's pretty sure that it's not right to take advantage of her loneliness or boredom. The right thing is to say, no, thank you. "Okay? I mean, if you're sure? It'll just be the days when there's after-schools, so a couple of hours at the most—"

Katara cuts him off with a dismissive wave. "I'll watch them whenever."

"Thanks," Zuko says, trying to cram all of his appreciation into a smile. "I better get moving or I'm going to fall asleep right here." He stands with a grunt, shaking the sudden pins and needles from his legs. "I'll go over with the dog and open the door, and then come back for the girls."

"Don't be stupid," Katara says, already reaching for Mari. "I'll help."

Zuko looks on helplessly as Katara scoops her up. Mari fits perfectly in her arms, snuggling until she's got her nose pressed into the dip of Katara's shoulder. It's stupid, but Mari looks like she belongs there, and it's even more stupid that it makes Zuko's stomach feel suddenly fluttery. He keeps his eyes trained straight ahead as he carries his other child across the street and up the stairs.

"Thank you," he says, leading Katara back to the door, the girls safely deposited in their own bed.

"Anytime," Katara says, and his heart kicks up when she leans over and brushes a gentle thumb over his cheekbone.

"Soot." Katara turns her thumb over to show him. "You've had it there since you came back."

"Right," Zuko says, feeling a little foolish.

At least he didn't do anything dumb, like lean in.


	7. Chapter 7

The following morning, the girls sleep in while Zuko gets ready for work and gathers up the bits they'll need for the day at Michi's. When he pulls the drapes open, Zhao is standing outside Katara's store, just staring in the window.

Zhao's still there after Zuko's dressed, still there when he's packed up the girls' bag, still there when his coffee is cooling.

"Morning Zhao," he calls from the door, and crosses the street when he doesn't move. "Hey," he says, touching Zhao on the elbow until he turns around slowly.

"Look," he says, tugging a glove off and holding his hand up. There's a small bandaid covering the tiny wound, but that's not what he's showing Zuko. His thumb and forefinger are tiny and almost weird looking alongside the gross, shiny swells of his other fingers. Zuko watches as he curls and uncurls the two digits, rubbing the tips of them together while the rest of his hand stays rigid and uncooperative. There are knuckles today where gnarls were last night, where Zuko had watched Katara rub the ointment.

"I've been to every doctor in this state," Zhao says. "Every rheumatologist, every osteopath, and no one has been able to help me. No one." He wiggles his fingers again, and looks up at Zuko, all the stern pride stripped from his face. "I had to give up doing crossword puzzles years ago. I couldn't hold my grandson when he was born four years ago. I haven't been able to make myself a pot of tea since last Christmas."

For a second Zuko almost says that he could have asked for help, but then who would actually help him. Jeong Jeong is Zhao's closest neighbor and they've been at war with each other for as long as Zuko's lived here. On the other side of Zhao lives Long Feng, who can't even look after himself, and is currently sleeping off his latest bender at the station.

"I'm sorry," Zuko says, and Zhao looks at him like he's missing the point before turning back to the window.

"Well," Zuko says, the new November chill making him shiver a little. "Katara doesn't get here until late on Sundays."

"I'll wait," Zhao says, like he doesn't mind.

::

There's a note shoved under the door when he gets home that afternoon. _Dinner at my place? 4? Tell the girls to bring boots and windbreakers if they want to help out with a little planting_.

::

It's possible that Zuko has never seen so much soil in his life, and right now the twins and Appa are wearing most of it.

"Isn't this awesome, Dad?" Aya shouts to be heard over the wind that's battering her.

"Yep," Zuko lies, glad that he brought a change of clothes for them, and even more glad that he hadn't brought a change for himself. It's meant that he could spend the evening supervising from a safe distance while Katara and the girls planted onions, broad beans and spinach into window boxes. His duties included fetching drinks, cheerleading, and calling Appa to heel when he got a little too rambunctious with the penned chickens. But mostly he got to watch, to see Katara crouch down by the girls, pointing out things, shaking seeds into their hands, demonstrating how to use a trowel, always talking—words that often got lost in the wind before they reached Zuko's ears.

"Dad," Aya shouts. "We're going to see the tree. Are you coming with us to see the tree?"

"I'm good," he calls back, squinting down the end of the garden to where Katara and the girls are heading. Zuko's never been much use at telling one tree from another, but it's almost impossible to tell what this particular tree is. Or was. It's a big, dead looking thing, a ruin of what was probably once a feature of this land. All that remains are a thick trunk and bare branches that reach up into the sky as if pleading with the heavens.

"We're giving the tree our energy, Dad," Mari yells.

"I'm surprised you have any left," Zuko calls back, snorting when all three of them put their hands on the trunk and rest their heads against the bark. He thinks maybe the tree should be giving them energy, in the form of firewood.

They leave the garden when the light gets too bad, stomping the mud from their boots. The girls look pink-cheeked and healthy, smiling through their shivers as Zuko and Katara fireman-carry them to the downstairs bathroom.

Zuko runs the faucet and holds their cold fingers under the warm water.

"Katara's house is nice, isn't it, Dad?" Aya says, her lips quivering and a little purple.

"Sure is," Zuko answers, running a washcloth over her muddy face, and then stepping back in surprise. "Oh my, Aya, is that you?"

She giggles while rolling her eyes. "Stop it, Dad."

"Never," Zuko promises, making one bad dad joke after another until the girls are clean and dressed in fresh leggings and t-shirts.

They join Katara in the kitchen, where there's a production line set up for dinner prep. Mari washes, Katara peels, Zuko chops and Aya gathers, and the end result is a stew that Zuko can't wait to get stuck into. The girls help Katara whip up some brownies while it cooks, and Zuko takes the opportunity to slip out of the kitchen.

There are four other rooms leading off the impressive hallway, all of them with high, ornate ceilings and bay windows. Zuko visits them all; a living room that's mostly furnished in a formal fashion, a den that has a comfy sofa, a large flatscreen TV on the wall, and a mess of video games scattered around the floor. Zuko bends to skim through a few—FIFA, Twilight Princess, Mario Kart, Call of Duty. The classics.

There's also an office/library with a computer, more chunky-looking tomes, and novels from authors he hasn't heard of, dog-eared and bent at the spine. The last room is some sort of lab, a long steel bench almost buried under boxes of chemical equipment, tubes and tubing, and small jars like the one Aya had handed Katara last night.

Back out in the hall, Zuko can hear the girls singing a song about cakes, so he pads up the split staircase, his socked feet light on the new carpet. There are photos running along the wall. A young girl with Katara's eyes wearing a dinosaur tattoo on her cheek, a taller boy with similar coloring beside her. The same pair as teenagers in front of a Christmas tree, arms around a short grinning woman and a broadset man. Some more family gatherings, BBQs, picnics, birthdays, the same four people appearing regularly in them. Further up the stairs are pictures of Katara poised on a diving board, playing soccer, different jerseys, same pose. The last is a double frame of Katara with someone that Zuko immediately recognizes. He's peering in for a closer look when Katara creeps up beside him.

"You got a search warrant, Sheriff?" she says, but she's smiling.

Zuko looks back at the photo. "You never told me you played soccer with Hahn." The guy's a legend, almost certain to medal at the Olympics.

"I told you I lived in Europe."

"You didn't tell me why, though. You must have been good."

"I was okay."

"More than okay," Zuko insists. "If your league was partnered with Hahn's, I'm impressed."

"Would you be even more impressed if I told you I dated him?"

Zuko can feel his eyebrows rise. "Big, if true."

Katara's face is soft as she gazes at the photograph. "He was my first serious boyfriend."

"What happened?" Zuko asks before he can stop himself. "I mean, you don't have to answer that. I just—"

"Didn't work out," Katara answers simply. "Not his fault. He's a great guy."

Zuko looks back at the photo, not too sure about that. Now that he's peering more closely, Hahn looks like a bit of a douche. "And soccer?"

"Didn't work out either," she says, but quieter, like that was the bigger loss. "Now, if you're done with your snooping, let's go eat."

"In a minute," Zuko says, easing himself onto the top stair. "There's something else I'm curious about."

Katara takes the step a few below Zuko, twisting to sit on her hip.

"Zhao," Zuko begins. "I saw him this morning. He showed me his hand. More specifically, his thumb and finger, where you rubbed that cream. What was in that?"

"Nothing illegal," Katara answers slowly, making Zuko sigh impatiently.

"I didn't think it was, moron. But like, you fixed it."

"But like," Katara mocks, and grins when he pulls a face at her. "All I gave Zhao was some lanolin and aloe vera mixed with healing herbs and plants that are commonly found in conventional medicine."

"Healing herbs," Zuko repeats, wrinkling his nose.

"But you chose to ignore the conventional medicine. You do know that drugs such as codeine, digitalis, aspirin, quinine all come from plants? And that these are medicines that actual medical doctors use on a daily basis to keep people alive?"

"So why haven't medical doctors prescribed this healing stuff for Zhao before now? I mean, if this alternative medicine works."

"Complementary medicine," Katara says, firmly enough for Zuko to know he's being corrected. "I have nothing but respect for science, and I would never tell anyone to ignore their doctor's advice or stop taking their meds. Never. You get that, right?" Zuko nods, and squirms when Katara reads his mind. "I don't peddle false hope to vulnerable people who are in pain. But I do have a lot of faith in treatments that have helped arthritis patients like Zhao since medicine was in its infancy, such as lanolin which is good for bone protection, and aloe vera which is an effective anti-inflammatory."

"So what, your stuff works with Zhao's regular stuff, and suddenly he's all good?"

She shrugs. "I'd say he's far from good, but some remission from pain is possible. I'd hope he continues to improve now that we've made a treatment plan."

"A treatment plan?" Zuko bites back a rude snort, although he suspects that his amusement amuses her. "Do tell."

"And break confidentiality?" Katara bites at a smile. "Never. But I usually tell my clients to follow their prescribed medical routine, which will be supplemented by some natural remedies. Maybe physiotherapy, contrast hydrotherapy, and take a close look at diet and exercise. And some wellness, of course."

"Of course," Zuko echoes, mockingly. "Where would we be without a dose of wellness?"

"Consumed with our physical bodies and neglecting our mental health," Katara answers. Her face is earnest and lively, her expression almost as verbal as her words. "Wellness therapies are holistic, and they help us care for our minds and our spirits. Being in constant pain, like Zhao is, will really mess your head up. You're too sore to clean the house, so you stop having people over. That ten minute walk to wherever is too much, so you stop going. Suddenly you're isolated, or isolating yourself. You can't get up to go to the store or cook a proper meal, and your diet suffers, or maybe you just don't eat. You can't care for yourself, so your physical health gets worse, and that feeds into your hopelessness. It's all cyclical, you know?"

And the thing is, Zuko does know. He remembers dark days after Mai died, when the pain of his loss was physical. He wasn't sick but his muscles ached, his body shook, and he was so damned tired all the time.

"We're more than just our physical bodies," Katara says, softer, like she might know where his thoughts have drifted to. "We're emotional and spiritual beings, and those parts of us get hurt, too. They need to be looked after. And for all of us, hope should always be what dies last."

Zuko must do something funny with his face because Katara sighs.

"Fine," she says, shoulders drooping. "I'm busted. What I really did was put a spell on Zhao's cream. I'm just making up all this other shit to throw you off the scent."

"Spell," Zuko scoffs. "Yeah, because this conversation needs more mumbo-jumbo." His eyes drop to her hand, creeping closer to his foot, barely brushing the fabric of his pants.

Suddenly the air feels sticky, heavy, like it could coat the back of a spoon.

"There are so many things we've yet to learn, if we'd just open our minds a little," Katara says conversationally, like she's not making every part of Zuko tingle with just the tease of her fingers. He almost jerks when her hand curls around his ankle, squeezing briefly before sliding down to the heel.

"And what," Zuko says, his tongue a little thick. "You going to open my mind to the wonders of foot massage?"

"I'm going to do something," Katara says, smirking the hottest, filthiest smirk that Zuko has ever been on the receiving end of, and then pressing her thumb down purposefully on the sole of his foot.

The sensation that rips through Zuko shoots up his thigh, across his groin and into his lower belly. He pulls his foot back like a whip and crosses his legs, pressing almost painfully while he rolls onto one hip. For a few horrifying seconds he thinks he might actually wet himself. "What the fuck did you do to me?" he gasps when he can speak again.

"Me and my mumbo-jumbo pressed on your bladder through your foot," Katara laughs, pushing to stand up. "You should probably go to the bathroom. Like now."

"I should piss all over your lovely, new carpet," Zuko throws back, but that doesn't even put a dent in Katara's grin.

::

They stay so late at the Mourns that Zuko's expecting gale-force levels of crankiness the following morning, but the twins are out of bed as soon as he calls them, chattering and giggling their way through breakfast.

"It was the best time ever, Dad," Mari declares. "Katara told us all about the Rowan Tree. It's very old. Older than anything in Eerie Falls, and it—"

"That's great, honey," Zuko says absently, juggling the iron and the fridge door while looking around for a hairbrush. He should have got up at least half an hour earlier. "You can tell me more after three bites of your toast. Hey, where are your shoes?"

"Dunno," Aya shrugs, picking at her cereal. "Can we have omelets now?"

"No eggs," Zuko says, taking a run up the stairs and squashing himself under the bed to find Aya's sneakers. He adds vacuuming under there to the to-do list.

"I'm not wearing those," Aya says when he returns, plucking dust bunnies from his hair. "And I'm still hungry."

"Ayaka," he says warningly, swearing a little when he realizes that he's forgotten to take his shirts from the washing machine. He's going to have to iron one dry.

"Why are you putting cheese on our sandwiches?" Mari says. "We want bologna."

"Don't speak for your sister, Mari."

"I want bologna," Aya says.

"We don't have any bologna. I'll pick some up later."

"Ugh, cheese," Mari moans. "And I'm hungry."

"Well," Zuko huffs, snapping the lids on the lunchboxes. "I dunno, have a banana or something."

"The bananas are all brown and yucky," Aya whines.

"Can we have some of our Halloween candy?" Mari says hopefully.

Zuko shakes some of the creases from his shirt, and plugs the iron back in. _Absolutely not_ is the right answer to that question, but, "Just one piece," is what he says. It buys him about twenty seconds of silence before Mari asks if she can have a crown braid.

He glances at the clock. Ten minutes until the bus arrives. "Can't you just wear hairbands today?"

"No," Mari says. "Kyle Sosa has lice."

"Jesus," Zuko mutters. "Again?"

"That's three times this year, Dad," Aya tells him.

"Fine," Zuko says, abandoning the shirt to go looking for the hairbrush once more. "Upstairs now, hellions. Hands, faces, teeth. You have four minutes."

He's snapping the elastic band on Mari's braid when the bus pulls up outside. "Let's go, let's go, let's go," he chants, pushing the girls ahead of him, giving both of them the wrong schoolbag.

"We didn't have a bath last night, or a shower this morning," Aya reminds him while he zips up her coat.

"I know," he says, pulling them in for quick hugs. "You'll just have to be the smelly kids in school today. Don't tell your teacher what a terrible dad I am."

"I think she already knows," Mari says.

It's only when the bus pulls away that Zuko notices Jimmy Mac and Koko Bolt hanging around in the vicinity of Katara's store, both of them trying to look disinterested and engaged in regular activities. Koko is checking her phone, and Jimmy is pretending that he's having trouble reading his watch.

"Store opens at nine," Zuko shouts, and watches as they scatter away with indignant strides.

::

Katara's first shift in charge of the girls is on Wednesday. Zuko enters the store an hour after it closes, apologies bubbling on his lips. Mari is doing some sort of stock inventory, a clipboard in her hand and a pen in her mouth as she studiously counts candles. Aya is sitting on the counter, her eyes squeezed shut. "Smells like cat pee," she says to Katara.

"Good girl." She's holding some sort of plant under Aya's nose. "And what smells like cat pee?"

"Valerian. It makes you sleepy."

"Well done," she says, smiling a hello at Zuko. "And just one more." She holds up another plant for Aya to sniff.

"Sage. Good for memory," she says, drumming her heels against the wood panels.

"Sounds like you've been eating some," Zuko says.

Her eyes fly open and she pounces into his arms. "Dad," she squeals, kneeing him swiftly in the kidneys.

"Hi, baby," he grins into her hair.

"I'm Katara's prentice," she says, pushing back a little, and beaming like this is the best announcement ever.

"You are?"

"Yep. She's teaching me lots of things."

"That's so cool. And what about your sister?" Zuko raises his voice. "The one that hasn't come over to say hello to her dad yet."

Mari finishes checking the candles, and writes something on the clipboard, her tongue poking out in concentration. "Hi, Dad," she yells suddenly and bounds over, already stretching her arms out. Zuko catches her easily, smacking a noisy kiss onto her cheek as she settles onto his free hip. Something warm bumps against his thigh, and he looks down at Appa. "Oh, the whole family is here."

"We collected him because he was lonely and he likes playing with Momo," Mari says. "And, Dad, guess what? I'm Katara's assistant. Right, Katara?"

"Best assistant ever there was," Katara agrees.

"An apprentice and an assistant?" Zuko says, impressed. "Glad to hear you're earning your keep."

"I say have a nice day to the customers and hold the door open for them," Mari says. She sounds so proud of herself that Zuko can't help but laugh.

"Customers?" he says to Katara. "Zhao been spreading the good word?"

"Yep," she nods. "Steady all day."

"Sounds like you got two helpers just in time then," Zuko says, smiling at his daughters. "And I'm sorry I'm so late. I got caught in Milton. But the good news is they have a Walmart there, and I picked up lots of bologna."

"We like cheese now," Aya tells him.

"Of course you do," he groans, letting the girls slide down to the floor. "Go say goodbye to Momo. We're leaving in five minutes."

"Doesn't Hama have bologna?" Katara asks when Mari and Aya trot over to the library, cat and dog hot on their heels.

"Yeah, but I'm boycotting that store. Or I'm barred from it. Definitely one of those, probably both."

"Because of me?" Katara asks. "There's really no need. Hama was one of my best customers today."

Zuko grips the countertop dramatically. "Hama? _Hama_ came in here? And she didn't burst into flames?" He laughs when Katara pulls a face. "So, hey, thanks again. Sounds like the girls had a blast, and are learning a trade."

"Is that okay with you? I mean, Aya mostly."

"What? That you're teaching her all this mumbo-jumbo stuff?" Zuko shakes his head. "Nah, that's all good. She could do with a dose of your chill. She can be a little intense."

"She reminds me of me when I was younger," Katara says.

That surprises Zuko. He would have thought Katara more like Mari in nature, both of them always sticking their necks out for others, no matter how many times they get kicked in the head. "Really? I can't ever imagine you being intense."

"I was," Katara says, nodding and looking a little rueful.

"Interesting," he muses, steepling his fingers. "What happened?"

"I changed," she says. It's not quite curt, but it's definitely not inviting.

Zuko rolls his eyes. "Fine, keep on being an enigma," he scoffs. "Did you also have no friends when you were her age?"

Katara looks a little startled by that. "Aya has no friends?"

"She has Mari," Zuko says, shrugging. "But people don't really interest her, which is why it was so weird that she liked you so much. No, not so much, so _instantly_. She's not good with new people. She barely spoke to Aang when he started looking after them. Like, Mari would pretend she was Aya, and talk to Aang so he wouldn't feel bad." Although that went down the river when Aang figured out how to tell them apart.

It hadn't even been something that really concerned Zuko until late in the last school year when Mari had been home for a week with a fever. Ms. Suki had invited him to the school for recess so he could see for himself how his other child sat alone on the ground near the swings, her knees hugged to her chest. She hardly moved for the twenty minutes he stood watching her while his heart broke. That was the first time Ms. Suki suggested a separation. Zuko countered with a suggestion of his own; he could drop by and play with Aya during recess until her sister came back.

Turns out, neither suggestion was deemed satisfactory.

"She's been a bit handsy with some of the other kids this year," Zuko continues. "Which is new. Mostly hair-pulling and a bit of shoving when anyone gets too close to her. September was a bit rough, but she's getting better at resolving conflict." That's not strictly true; she's getting better at removing herself from potential conflict. But Zuko is not getting called up to the school once a week anymore, and that feels like progress.

"I could do a little mindfulness with her," Katara suggests.

"Mindfulness," Zuko repeats, twisting his lips.

"Right," she says, again ignoring the hint of skepticism in his tone. "It's just a way of slowing down, and grounding yourself through meditation and breathing. It's really good for people who are reactive or impulsive, helps them feel more in control."

Reactive and impulsive might not be what Zuko is seeing at home, but it's certainly what he's been hearing from Ms. Suki. "Can't hurt," he says, shrugging. "Wait, it can't hurt, right?"

"Well, there's always a risk when it comes to breathing," Katara says dryly, looking over at Aya. "She'll find her way. You shouldn't worry so much."

Zuko huffs out a laugh. "I'm both parents to two six year old girls. I have a PhD in worrying."

"You're a great dad," she says, quiet but fierce. "You're doing an amazing job with your kids."

"I think I do okay," Zuko admits. He does his best with what he has. Most of the time it feels like he gets through the day by the seat of his pants, but he doesn't miss the important things. He's always there in the mornings, attends every school performance, uses his vacation days for trips to the dentist, knows the exact date, day and time of the annual visit to the pediatrician. His bed is always available when there are nightmares or illnesses.

"More than okay," Katara insists. Zuko can see some of that earlier-mentioned intensity in her dark eyes. It's hard to look away, and he doesn't until she clears her throat.

"So," she says into the sudden silence. "Can you get a sitter for the girls sometime over the weekend?"

"Yes?" Zuko says, and then winces at how surprised and eager that sounded. "Yes. For what?"

"Dinner," Katara smiles, like maybe she's laughing a little at him. But her eyes are serious and a little apprehensive.

"Dinner," he repeats. "Just us?"

"Yes, Zuko. Dinner. For just us."

Zuko swallows, hard. "Cool," he says lamely.

Yeah. Cool. He can be cool.


	8. Chapter 8

He arrives at the Mourns just before eight on Saturday night, holding out a six pack. "I've also brought an empty stomach and two opposable thumbs," he tells Katara while thumping his sneakers onto the mat.

"I can help with the empty stomach," she says, taking his coat and folding it over her arm. "But I'm not sure about the thumbs?"

"Video games," Zuko grins. "Tonight I am not a dad, I am not a Sheriff, tonight I am —" He drops his voice dramatically. "The Blue Spirit."

"The what now?"

"That was my gaming name, back in the day," Zuko laughs. "I retired it when the girls came along." He makes his way easily to the den, snapping on the light behind the door.

"Maybe later?" Katara says, appearing behind him. "I thought we might have a drink out on the back porch before dinner."

Zuko's already on his knees, fiddling with the console cables. "You mean go outside?" he says over his shoulder. "Where the wind chill is like minus a hundred?"

"I've lit the woodburner. I have blankets. It'll be warm," she says. She's leaning against the door frame, looking like she doesn't much want to step inside.

"It's already warm in here," he reasons. "And there's light and video games. God bless technology."

"There are stars outside," Katara says, smiling a little. "And a beautiful moon in the sky."

"Pfft," he scoffs. "I can see the moon any night of the week. I haven't played video games in years. The last time I had a Playstation, there weren't any numbers after it."

"Fine," she snorts softly. "Knock yourself out. I'll go see to dinner."

"Hey, no," Zuko cries, pushing up onto his feet. "Play with me. C'mon, Katara. I'm not playing by myself."

Katara sighs, and looks towards the kitchen. "I really don't want to play. And I have to take the duck out of the oven."

"Duck," Zuko smirks. "Don't you mean chicken?" He stalks towards her, moving his arms like wings. "Bwak, bwak, bwak, bwak, bwwwaaaaaak."

"Oh my god," she laughs, pushing him away. Her fingertips brush against his chest for just a second, but he feels it like they were burning hot. "The Blue Bandit is a fucking dick."

"Yeah, he's heard that before, but if you play FIFA with him for half an hour, he'll go away."

Katara still doesn't look too sure. "Okay," she says finally, catching the controller that Zuko tosses to her and following him over to the sofa. "But not FIFA. I have Mortal Kombat and Halo, and Black Ops."

"You'd rather shoot at me than take shots on goal with me?" Zuko says, clutching his chest in mock horror.

"Right now, yes."

"Wow," Zuko says sadly, shaking his head. "I knew there was an edge to you, Katara. But the FIFA disc is already in the console." And loaded on the screen. "I don't even know how to play this game, so you'll probably win."

For the first time, Katara starts to look a little interested. She sits back, her thigh resting against Zuko's, which he definitely only notices a normal amount, and gets things started by playing like a boss. "Ha, too slow," she chirps. "Way too slow… you even playing there… your controller not working… oh, yes, baby… that's how it's done… motherfucking beauty… suck it, because you suck… oh, c'mon, man, are you that stupid or just blind… what?... what?"

Zuko stares at her. "It's like watching Bambi snort crack-cocaine. You're even meaner than the Blue Bandit."

"I'm better than him, too," Katara boasts, and wins again.

But for all that she's a terrible bragger, Zuko is a quick learner, and an even better thwart. By the third game, he has the controls and speed figured, and Katara gets very red in the face when Zuko taunts her between goals—thinly veiled insults about her prowess, her parentage, and her sanity.

"For the win," Zuko croons. "He dribbles and he crosses and he shoots. Sc…" The screen freezes just as the ball hits the goal line. Zuko swears, pressing harder on the buttons and then shaking the controller when that does nothing. "What the fuck. Katara, this thing's stuck. Right before I was about to score, too, which is massively convenient for you." When he turns his head, Katara is staring at the TV, looking absolutely stricken. "Hey," Zuko says, suddenly uneasy. "You okay?"

Katara is so still that Zuko reaches out a hand and taps her knee. "Katara?" That seems to snap Katara out of her fugue, her eyes dropping to Zuko's hand, and then knocking it away with her own.

"Katara?" Zuko tries again, but Katara is on her feet and out the door before Zuko can say anything else.

Zuko gives them both a moment before going to find her.

"Did I do something?" he asks when he walks into the kitchen. "You know I didn't mean that stuff I was saying? I'm sure your parents are lovely people."

Katara has her back to him, and the silence isn't in any way reassuring.

"The game isn't broken," Zuko continues. "It just crashed. If that's what you're pissed about."

"I'm not pissed," Katara says flatly, taking what Zuko assumes is the duck out of the oven. He has to assume, because what's on the tray doesn't much resemble anything that he's ever eaten. It's a mess of black and raw flesh.

"Did it explode?" he asks, daring to take a step closer.

"It's ruined," Katara says, poking at it with a fork. Zuko can't help but think that maybe she's not just talking about the bird. And he doesn't even know how that happened. Thirty minutes ago, he was on the doorstep, his stomach light and fluttery. Now he feels like it's lined with lead.

"Okay," he says. "Well, I'm sure between us, we could rustle up a few sandwiches with whatever else you have in the fridge. We could take them outside and you could throw that carcass into the woodburner. Should keep us warm for a while." When Katara does nothing more than stare at her ruined offerings, Zuko loses patience. "You're going to have to give me some sound to go with this picture."

"I don't feel well," Katara says shortly.

"You don't feel well," Zuko echoes, and when he looks at Katara he can see that much is true at least. She's waxy pale, her forehead clammy and shiny. The duck probably has a more healthy pallor. "Maybe you should sit down."

"I think I have to go to bed," Katara says, and starts clearing the plates and glasses that she had laid out for dinner. Packing up the evening, putting it away.

"Can I do anything?" Zuko asks, and Katara answers by looking at the door.

Right. "I'll see myself out," he says, and then does.

::

Mari is glued to his hip the following morning. "Flip now, Dad?" she says, waving the spatula dangerously close to his face.

"Go for it," he says and yawns into her hair, holding onto the pan while she turns the pancake in it.

"Did you have a nice time with Katara?" Aya chimes from the kitchen table, where she's downing her own pancakes, both of them covered in maple syrup.

"Sure," Zuko says easily, and tosses out a deflection. "Did you have a nice time with Aang?"

"We played Parcheesi and cards. And we watched a show about goats," Mari answers. "There was this goat who had to cross the river to get to the salty rocks on the other side."

"She's at the door," Aya says.

"The goat?" Zuko frowns, turning down the stove.

"Katara."

"I didn't hear a knock," Zuko says, just as the doorbell rings.

"It's Katara," Aya repeats.

"Dad," Mari admonishes when Zuko doesn't go to the door.

"If it's Katara, she can wait," he says firmly, and she stiffens in his arms. "Because she wouldn't want your breakfast to burn," he adds, softer.

"It's ready now," Mari insists, but Zuko waits another full minute before tossing the pancake onto the plate.

"Stay," he orders, wagging a warning finger before making his way to the front of the house.

It is Katara, looking guilty and hesitant, but less like she's going to throw up. There's a large cardboard box in her arms that Zuko gives little more than a cursory glance to.

"Shouldn't you still be in bed?" Zuko asks, and it comes out even more pissy than he intended.

Katara's shoulders hunch. "I… I need to get some things ready for the store."

"Physician, heal thyself," Zuko suggests.

"I'm feeling better," Katara says quietly, glancing away. "And I'm sorry about last night. I'm really, really sorry. I was… rude."

Zuko doesn't argue, even though Katara looks sorry and she's saying sorry. It's just not really good enough right now. Zuko had spent the night blinking at his clock and wondering just what the hell he did that was so terrible that he got thrown out of someone's house, so Katara can choke on the silence.

"Anyway," Katara continues, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. "This is for you." She thrusts the box at Zuko.

Zuko squints inside and tries to push it back. "Oh my god, I'm not taking your Playstation."

"I'm giving it to you," Katara says, with another push that almost knocks Zuko over.

"Well, I don't want it."

"Please," Katara says desperately. "It's just. You were so excited about playing, and I feel like I ruined that for you. Look, you don't have to keep it if you don't want to. Just borrow it for a couple of days."

Zuko feels a slight thaw in his chest because her face is miserable, and she's blinking big, sorrowful eyes, like the weapons of mass manipulation they are.

"Okay," he says. It's not exactly gracious, more of a _I'll take your stupid-ass console, and in return, I might speak to you if I see you on the street, but forgiveness for your asshattery is very much pending._

There's a lot of relief in Katara's smile. "I have to go," she says, beginning to shuffle away from the door. "Tell the girls I said hi."

"Sure," Zuko says sarcastically. He closes the door before Katara can respond.

The outrage when he goes back into the kitchen alone is vicious.

"But where did she go?" Mari whines, dismayed, looking around Zuko as if Katara's going to suddenly appear and shout _punked_. "I kept one of my pancakes for her."

"I don't think she was hungry," Zuko says. "But you will be if you don't eat it. It's a two and a half hour drive to Caldera City, and I'm not stopping for snacks."

"But why didn't she come in to see us?"

"Maybe she only came to see me," Zuko teases.

That's met with two stony glares. "You saw her on your own last night," Aya mutters mutinously.

Zuko sighs and decides to take one for the team. "She wanted to come in, but then I told her that Grandma Ursa is expecting us before midday. She said she'll see you soon."

"Tomorrow," Aya says, still pouting.

"Tuesday," Zuko corrects, and he's not too sure about that either. He probably shouldn't leave his kids with someone he isn't really speaking to. Maybe he should talk to Michi.

"Tomorrow," Mari insists. "At the recital."

"I only have two tickets. The other one is for Grandma Michi."

"She won't come," Mari says, and the matter-of-fact tone tugs sharply at his heart. "You can give Katara her ticket."

"Maybe I'll give Katara my ticket," Zuko muses, and laughs when the girls squeal with betrayal.

::

They go for a walk along the lakeshore after lunch, which gives Zuko the chance to stretch his legs after the car journey and digest the obscene amount of roast chicken he just shoveled down his throat. The girls are ahead, their grandparents struggling to keep up with them.

"So, your theory is that this Katara is still hung up on Lionel Messi," Azula is saying. "And playing a soccer video game made her remember her broken heart, and so she freaked out."

"Nobody mentioned Messi," Zuko huffs, kicking at the shale under his feet. "And I didn't say it was a great theory."

"But it is great," Azula says, and there's a tart turn to her tone that immediately makes Zuko feel itchy. "Because now she's emotionally unavailable, and it absolves you of any accountability for your part in sabotaging this date."

Zuko stops dead. "What the fuck, Azula. First, knock the Cosmo relationship psychology bullshit on the head. Second, it wasn't a date. And third, I didn't _sabotage_ anything."

"Oh, put the injured eyes away," she scoffs, rolling her own. "She pretty much spelled it out for you. Dinner, at her place, _alone_. There were blankets, and drinks under the stars, and fires. Textbook date. And even though she went to all this effort, you knocked it back so that you could play video games, a _soccer_ video game, when you knew there was history there."

"You have no idea —"

"Also," Azula interrupts. "You brought the Blue Bandit to third wheel, and everyone hates that asshole."

Zuko stares at her, betrayed, and then turns back to look at the water. "I had no idea that she was going to get weird over some dumb game."

"No, you didn't," Azula concedes, linking his arm and tugging until he starts walking again. "But if this was about losing her ex or losing soccer, you should have understood. It's where you should have stepped up, because if anyone knows loss, it's you. But instead you made _her_ thing about _you_. And now you're telling yourself that you feel hurt and disappointed, which is probably true. But it also lets you hide what else you're feeling, which is relieved."

Zuko can't believe that this conversation has run away from him so quickly. " _She_ was an asshole —"

"You like her," Azula cuts in. "You _really_ like her and you're scared. And now you get to cut her off, and tell yourself that that it's for the best. I mean, you tried, right? She was the asshole and you're the victim in all of this."

"Oh, fuck off," Zuko says wearily. "You know what? I never said I was a victim, and I have more than myself to think about here. The girls —"

"Love her," Azula finishes for him. "Even Aya, and winning her over is no easy feat. So don't even think about hiding behind your daughters, Zuzu. We all know there is no world where they don't come first. But first doesn't mean _all_. You can be a dad and have a relationship."

Zuko scowls down at the ground. He hates how quickly she makes him forget that he's a grown-ass man who takes charge of two offspring and an entire town every single day. Ninety minutes. He's been here ninety minutes and he already wants to stomp off to his room and sulk.

"Look," she continues. "I know you came out to have good time and you're honestly feeling so attacked right now, but —"

"Oh my god," Zuko says, trying to break free, but she hems him in, snorting into his shoulder. She pushes and presses at him until he gives in and laughs with her.

"What if," he says when they start ambling. "What if I do like her?"

"I don't think that's the problem," Azula returns mildly.

"Fine. What if it goes wrong?"

And if that doesn't just smash open the floodgates. _What if I'm misreading something? What if I start to like her even more and she can't get over her own past stuff? What if she does like me and we date and she changes her mind, or I change mine. What if the girls get too attached and that becomes a shitstorm. What if she leaves. What if she stays and meets someone else. What if_ —

"What of it?" Azula shrugs. "That's the chance everybody takes when they put themselves out there. I know you think I'm taking her side, but I don't really care about her feelings, to be honest. I care about you finally starting to _live_ your life again instead of just existing. Do you know that this is the first time you haven't spent your entire visit complaining about that dump of a town you live in? This is the most fun I've had with you in forever, Zuko. You're talking about regular stuff, like someone that interests you, someone that makes you feel things. You sound like a regular guy." She bumps against him almost aggressively. "You know what I wish for more than anything? What I wish for every night before I go to sleep? I wish you were happy again."

Zuko blinks quickly, his eyes suddenly hot and heavy.

"Katara could be just what you need right now," she says. "And maybe she needs you to help her get over Ronaldo."

"Azula," he says warningly, and then sighs. "I'm not even fully sure of what's on the table."

"So find out," she says. "Maybe you won't get everything, but you already have something, and that definitely beats a whole lot of nothing. Get to know her more. You might even find out that she's not that great. I mean, maybe you don't want to date Neymar's sloppy seconds."

"You're going to run out of soccer players soon," Zuko says.

"Yeah," she agrees. "But then I'm moving on to the women's league."

Thankfully, their mom is making her way back towards them before that starts. "Man," she huffs, bending to catch her breath. "I love my granddaughters with every bone in my body, but I cannot hear one more word about this Katara."

"You might want to keep running then," Azula laughs.

Zuko is both cursed and blessed by the women in his life.

Mostly blessed.

::

The girls are almost asleep by the time they turn off the highway toward Eerie Falls, and unconscious before Zuko is even half-way through the bedtime story. He heads back downstairs to empty the dryer, but pauses when he spots the Playstation behind the door, still in the box it arrived in.

He looks between it and his watch. It's only nine fifteen. He could play for an hour and then sort through the laundry.

At eleven thirty, he decides on one more game. He'll get up a bit early tomorrow.

At one a.m., he rubs his hands over his aching eyes.

At two twenty, he boxes up the console and games, and leaves them in the hallway.

His body is done when he finally falls into bed, but his mind is nowhere near as cooperative. It keeps drifting back to last night, and what might have been, had he been less focused on his own agenda, and more open to Katara's. There was nothing there Zuko wouldn't have liked—food, drink, and good company under the stars, warmed by blankets, fires, and laughter.

He's definitely had worse evenings.

Maybe they would have sat close to each other, or moved closer as it got darker and colder. There might have been kissing, which Zuko really wouldn't have hated. And sex, not an assumption, but a possibility. Just the thought of it shocks a bolt down his spine, spreading an ache across his lower back.

Sex. It's been so long. Too long.

He misses it; the act, and the intimacy. Someone else's hands—Katara's hands—on him.

Zuko squirms, sliding his palms down his stomach. He could jerk off. It wouldn't take long, and it might push him into sleep.

But after the five hour marathon with the controller, his wrists and fingers are stiffer than his dick.

The irony of being cockblocked by the Blue Bandit for a second consecutive night is not lost on him.

::

An incessant knocking on the front door drags him from an uneasy sleep the following morning.

"What?" he snaps, pulling it open. The sudden blast of icy air makes him shiver and bounce on the balls of his bare feet.

"I want you to arrest that woman," Mikey Dingus demands, his hand still high in the air, like he might start banging on the open door.

"What woman?" Zuko says, squinting towards where Mikey is glaring. It's still dark, and it's a bit of a struggle to make out the figure standing outside Katara's store, face almost pressed against the glass. "You want me to arrest Debs?"

"I _demand_ you arrest her," Mikey cries, voice wobbly with dismay.

"For what?"

"Line jumping."

"Line jumping?" Zuko repeats.

"Yes! I was there first, and then she came along and forced herself in front of me."

Zuko watches as Loni Young appears and takes her place behind Debs.

Mikey howls in protest. "Arrest both of them."

Zuko is not even nearly awake enough to deal with this.

"I'll arrest _you_ if you knock on this door again," he says, and slams it in his face. _Jesus_.

"Who is it, Dad?" Mari shouts as she pads down the stairs.

Zuko's trying to guess the time, weighing up whether he can send her back up to bed when his alarm screeches throughout the house.

"Got it," Aya hollers. There's a scurry as she races into Zuko's bedroom, followed by a thump as the clock clatters to the ground. Zuko decides to ignore its likely demise in favor of embracing the sudden, blessed silence.

"Who was at the door?" Mari repeats.

"Some crazy person," Zuko mutters. "Come on, Grandma Ursa gave us frittatas for breakfast. Ready in ninety seconds."

When he's set the slices into the microwave, he goes back to pull the drapes and turn on the light. It's a warning to the small gathering outside the store that he's watching, but they seem to have formed an uneasy truce, standing silently like strangers waiting on a bus.

"Something happened to your clock, Dad," Aya announces from the foot of the stairs.

Zuko raises his eyebrows. "Something? Or someone?"

"Something," Aya insists. She skips into the kitchen to get away from any further interrogation. Zuko takes a last look out the window before joining her.

Frittatas aren't the only gift from home. His mom has pretty much stocked their fridge for the next week, and the chicken sandwiches and fruit cups make lunch prep nothing more than a transfer to school bags. For the first time in a long time, Zuko is ready to leave the house with the girls.

The store is opened when they step out onto the sidewalk, although there's no sign of Katara or her customers. Zuko doesn't hang around; as soon as the bus pulls away, he gets in the cruiser and makes his way to his mother-in-law's house.

"Hi," he says, taking advantage of her surprise by walking into the hallway, and then further into the living room. It smells of lavender and stale air, and he itches to open a window.

"Are the girls okay?" Michi asks, following.

Zuko turns to face her. "They're fine. I told you about their recital, right? I texted you what, five or six times? Maybe you forgot, but it's tonight, and they'd love you to be there."

Michi pulls her shawl closer and walks to her shrine, where there are candles burning under the many framed pictures of her daughter. Photographs of Mai when she was a baby, then a toddler, a kid grinning during her first day of school, some gymnastic event. It's a timeline that's all but eviscerated her marriage and her husband. There's not one picture of Zuko, and the only one that even acknowledges his existence is of Mai with the girls ten minutes after their birth. Mai, exhausted and stunned, looking at her babies, so utterly in love that seeing it again steals the breath from his lungs.

"I can't go," Michi says. She doesn't even bother reaching for an excuse.

"Sure you can," Zuko says lightly. "We can pick you up and drop you home. Good tickets, too. Front row seats. The full high-def, emphasis on deaf, experience."

"No," Michi says, louder.

He fights a brick wall of frustration, and loses. "This isn't fair on the girls. They lost Mai, too. They miss her, too." He hates that she keeps ownership of the mourning, like no one else has any right to it. "And they miss you. It would mean so much to them if you would just turn up this evening."

Her face shutters, lips thinning. "Please leave," she says quietly. "I don't want you here."

He nods. This was a bad idea, poorly executed. "You didn't die," he reminds her, because sometimes he wonders if she's forgotten that.

"And neither did you," she returns.

 _It's your fault_ , is what she means. She'd said that so many times in those awful first weeks, when she'd remind him that he was supposed to pick up the diapers before he went on the evening shift. The diapers Mai never made it home with.

Just in case he forgot.

"If you change your mind," he says, and then leaves when she shows him her back.

::

It's still on his mind a few hours later, and he almost misses Katara when he drives past her. Zuko brakes and executes a definitely illegal U-turn before pulling up against the curb.

"Hi," Katara says hesitantly when he hops out of the car. She watches warily as he reaches for the Playstation box from the passenger seat.

"There's a reason why I don't own one of these anymore," he says. "For the sake of my children and my health, please take it back."

"Oh," she says, looking between him and the box. "Did you stay up all night playing this thing?"

"We partied long and hard," Zuko sighs. "And parting is such sweet sorrow, and all of that. But, here." He jigs the box until she takes it. "And thanks," he adds, hoping he sounds suitably sincere and contrite.

"No problem," Katara says. "And look, about Saturday night, I really am sorry —"

"No," he cuts in. " _I'm_ sorry."

"No, you didn't do anything. It was me. I was —"

"I was weird, when I arrived at your place," Zuko says. "Then you were weird. And you followed up by apologizing and bringing me a gift, and I followed up by being an ass. But, I accepted your gift, so —" He shrugs. "You should accept my apology."

The corners of her mouth quirk upwards. "Cute," she drawls, and then smiles for real. "So, we're good?"

"Yeah," he nods, smiling back, and feeling a giddy gush of relief. "I think so."

They kind of just stare weirdly at each other for a few long seconds before Katara blinks and jerks her head in the direction of the store. "You got time for a coffee?"

"Can't," Zuko says, regretfully looking towards where he should be going. "I'm actually on a high-speed chase after a thief."

Katara follows his gaze. "Should I let you get on with it?"

"Nah, I've got a minute. He's on a bicycle and I know where he's going. But if you're free later, I do happen to have one highly sought after, almost impossible to get, ticket to the elementary school recital tonight. Right now they're selling on Ebay for ones of dollars."

Katara looks genuinely touched. "I'd love to go," she says sincerely.

"Cool. And heads up, the girls are performing _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_ on their violins. You'll thank me for that later when it sounds nothing at all like _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_. Unfortunately, they've inherited their musicality from yours truly." He jerks two thumbs at himself. "Worst double bass player ever."

"You played double bass?" she snorts.

"Well, no," Zuko admits. "The thing was so huge I could barely hold it. I spent more time under it than playing it."

Her head tilts knowingly. "Why do I get the feeling that there was a girl involved?"

"Am I that obvious?" Zuko laughs. "She was the school band's lead flutist. She had braces and wouldn't speak to me. I thought she was magnificent."

"And was she impressed?"

"No way. She thought I was ridiculous, and upon reflection, she wasn't wrong."

Something else ridiculous is how much Zuko loves making Katara laugh, that little bubble that hops around in his chest when her eyes slim and crinkle at the corners.

"Okay," he says, because this seems like a good moment to leave things. "I should go catch a criminal mastermind, and you should probably get back to the store before another fight breaks out."

"There was a fight?" she asks, surprised.

"Not really," Zuko says. "It's just that the little mob outside was getting antsy early this morning. Maybe you need to open earlier or start giving out appointments."

Katara's face relaxes. "It'll sort itself out."

"Easy to say when you weren't the one who had to open the door in his underwear this morning," Zuko mock-grumbles, easing himself back into the cruiser. "Are appointments too establishment for you? Too civil obedience? Is this your way of socking it to the man? Screwing over the authorities with your hippie anarchy?"

"Yes, Zuko, that's exactly what it is," she says, slapping the roof of the car. "Fuck the police."

"Oh my god," he groans, grinning when Katara strolls away, cackling to herself.

::

When he rounds the corner, Si Sloan is standing on the grass verge looking down at the pieces of his bike.

"What happened to your getaway vehicle?" Zuko says, stepping out of the car.

"The wheels fell off," Si answers, his expression somewhere between dismay and disbelief. "I was cycling perfectly fine, and all of a sudden the bike started to shake, and then both wheels just...fell off."

Zuko steps closer. "Did something snap?"

But it was obvious that nothing had, the nuts and bolts were all there, lying almost neatly beside the wheels.

"Maybe they were loose?"

Si throws him an _oh please_ look. He's a mechanic's son, and this is a well-loved bike. "It's weird," he says. "It's… it's impossible."

"And yet," Zuko says with a grim smile. "Anyway, more importantly, show me what's in your pockets."

Si clucks his tongue and scowls, but Zuko stares him down until he drags two packs of dried lentils from his cargo pants.

"I don't even want to know," Zuko sighs. "Just get those back to Hama, and take whatever punishment she has waiting for you. Without complaint."

"Fine," Si snaps. He stuffs the stolen merchandise back into his pockets, jams a wheel under each arm, and stalks off, the frame of the bike between his legs.

Zuko laughs to himself and feels even more excited about tonight. Katara is going to love this story.


	9. Chapter 9

Next year, Zuko is demanding to see a seating plan of the school hall. The tickets, as promised, are for the front row. They are also right under the speaker, which hasn't been synced properly with the microphones. Every few seconds it send out a wail of feedback that makes Zuko's teeth rattle.

"My ears are bleeding," he grunts at Katara when the girls warble through their set, which sounds nothing like advertised.

"They do suck," Katara says cheerfully, but she's on her feet, wolf-whistling and clapping while the girls beam and wave shyly. They take so many bows that they have to be escorted from the stage by the teaching assistant.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Zuko groans when Darren Walden and his tuba arrive. His eardrums are really not going to survive the night.

Thankfully the sound system blows just before Darren begins and he's left playing an acoustic set.

"That was a stroke of luck," Zuko whispers, his head tilted towards Katara. Not quiet enough though, judging by the glare of death that Garth is sending his way.

"Luck," Katara agrees. "Who's up now?"

"Um," Zuko says, looking down at the program. "'Next we have the fifth grade doing a scene from _Ratatouille_ through the medium of interpretive dance.' Huh. I suspect that means they haven't actually rehearsed anything."

Katara settles back comfortably in her seat. "Awesome," she says, fistpumping. "I love interpretive dance."

Zuko doesn't doubt the sincerity of that. He'd mention the end of year school musical, but Katara would probably drop dead with excitement.

"Well," the girls demand when it's finally all over. "Did you love it? Were we amazing? We were the best, right?"

"I think you guys definitely stood out," Zuko laughs, ruffling both heads. "Katara?"

She crouches down and the way that the girls trot to her without any hesitation makes Zuko ache a little. "I can honestly tell you that I've never heard anything like it in my entire life. I'm stunned. I don't even know what to say."

"You liked us best?" Mari presses, all pleading eyes.

"I _loved_ you best," Katara promises. Her hands on the girls' shoulders are probably what keeps them from levitating off the ground in utter delight. "And because this was such a big treat for me, how about I treat you guys to dinner at the diner? Anything you like, on me."

"Can we, Dad? _Can we_?"

Like Zuko can say no.

Like he wants to.

It's only a short trip to Elmer's and the twins talk Katara's ears off the whole way. There are promises to play for her every day, and maybe Momo would love it. They're working on their next piece, _Jingle Bells_ , which they are hoping to debut for Thanksgiving, but after that they want to learn something by Beyoncé.

"That's goals, Katara," Aya tells her.

Elmer's is almost empty and they have their choice of booths. The girls settle in with each other, leaving Katara and Zuko to share. Their thighs press lightly together under the table, something that makes Zuko smile as he reaches for the menus. "What's everyone having?"

"Pancakes," the girls answer in unison.

"With chocolate chips," Aya adds.

"And bacon," Mari says.

"Some fruit, too?" Katara suggests, and Zuko gives her props for trying.

Elmer seems to be the only staff member on duty tonight. He grudgingly fills a couple of cups for some customers at the counter and then shuffles over to the booth. His feet barely lift off the ground. "What'll it be?" he asks like he doesn't much care.

"Pancakes for the girls," Zuko answers cheerfully. "With chocolate chips, bacon, fruit and syrup."

"Please and thank you," Mari adds.

Zuko salutes her. "What the lady said. And can we have some juice and coffee, please and thank you, Elmer."

"Breakfast finishes at midday," Elmer monotones. He sighs and rubs his arm across the chest, as if trying to relieve the itch under the gauze bandages that cover his wrists and elbows. "Pancakes are on the breakfast menu."

Zuko takes a deep breath and holds it.

"You're that girl with the store, right?" Elmer says, turning to Katara.

"Think so," Katara answers mildly.

Elmer scrutinizes her for another minute and Katara looks back, expression placid. "I've been thinking of paying you a visit," Elmer says eventually. He manages to make that sound as if he's doing Katara a favor. "Seeing as you helped Sonia with her bunions, and all. See, I got this." He turns his arms over, displaying the bandages.

"Psoriasis?" she guesses.

Elmer nods. "Bad flare up. The night-time itch is driving me nuts. Creams ain't doing a thing. I tell the doc and he just gives me more creams that don't do more things."

"Okay," Katara says. "Why don't you call the store tomorrow afternoon, and my wonderful assistant here—" She gestures to Mari. "Will help you make an appointment. Although, I should warn you that I'm booked up for the next week or so."

"I answer the phone," Mari explains to Elmer. "I say, 'hello, this is _Bell, Book, and Candle_ , Mari speaking. How may I help you?'"

"And I'm the prentice," Aya adds, not to be outdone.

"My wonderful apprentice," Katara corrects, making her grin.

Elmer looks like he doesn't much care about any of this. "Sonia didn't say nothing about appointments," he sniffs.

"If you're buying or browsing, or looking for some quick advice, the store is drop-in," Katara says, like she's agreeing. "But it was recommended to me very recently that one-on-one consultations should be by appointment only."

Zuko coughs into a napkin and Katara kicks him under the table.

"Although," she adds when Elmer flips the page of his notepad. "I might be able to see you tomorrow if you can make some pancakes tonight."

Elmer's dull eyes sharpen a little. "You're saying you're too busy to see me unless I make you pancakes?"

"No," Katara answers, and there's a little snap to her tone that makes Zuko sit up a little. "I really am fully booked up tomorrow. What I'm saying is if you go a _little_ bit out of your way to make these very deserving girls what they want to eat now, then I'll go a _lot_ out of my way tomorrow evening by staying after hours to see you."

"Oh," Elmer mutters, almost chastised. "Well, I do have some batter left over from this morning."

"Perfect," Katara says.

Before Elmer leaves, Mari reaches out to touch his bandaged wrist. "I'm sorry your arms are sore, Elmer," she says genuinely. "I hope you feel better real soon."

Zuko swallows painfully. He's often thought if Mari were cut open they'd find only heart, from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

Elmer looks down to her little hand. "Um," he says, but when he looks at her face, his own softens. "Thank you, young lady." He clears his throat. "So, pancakes."

"I bet hugs would make him feel better," Mari says when Elmer trots back to the kitchen.

Katara smiles at her. "Yours certainly would. What else would make him feel better, Aya?"

Aya leans in, elbows on the table, hands folded under her chin. "Stinging nettles, vitamin C, and quercetin might help his itchy." She frowns, twisting her lips to one side. "Is there anything else?"

"Burning lavender and bergamot might help him relax. It can be very hard to get comfortable when you're itchy," Katara replies. "And we could ask him if he wants to go to the Dead Sea."

"I wouldn't want to go to the Dead Sea," Mari says. "It sounds yucky. And dead."

Katara pokes her scrunched up nose and laughs when her eyes cross. "The reason it's called the Dead Sea is because there is so much salt in the water that nothing can live in it. You can't even swim properly in it because the salt makes people float."

The girls _oooh_ at that idea for a moment. "And will floating fix Elmer's sore skin?" Aya asks.

"The salt could help it. And the sun."

"But sun is bad for your skin," Mari says. "We have to put on sunscreen in the summer to stop it burning us. Right, Dad?"

"Absolutely right," Zuko agrees.

"Which is very sensible," Katara says, nodding seriously. "But the clouds over the Dead Sea block out most of the sun's harmful rays, especially the ones that cause sunburn."

"So," Mari says, head tilted as she weighs this all up. "Elmer would get the good sun?"

"Exactly," Katara says, and then stops talking because Elmer is making his way back to them, both hands gripping a large tray. The girls forget all about his ailments as they set upon the pancakes with more fillings than they asked for and swallow it all down with noisy gulps of fresh orange juice.

"Does it cost a lot of money to go to the Dead Sea, Katara?" Mari asks after a few minutes.

"Yeah, it does."

She takes another bite of her pancake and chews thoughtfully. "I don't think Elmer has a lot of money. There are holes in his pants and holes in his chairs and holes in his floor."

"I think Elmer forgot to look after his store the same way that the people forgot to look after the Rowan Tree," Aya adds.

"That's probably true," Katara nods. She nudges her leg against Zuko's. "You're quiet."

Zuko shrugs. "Just taking it all in."

Not the conversations about seas and healing sun rays and other mumbo-jumbo, but _this_. Being here and not wanting to be anywhere else. His ears are still ringing a little, he had three hours sleep last night, and he's sitting in a rundown diner in this shitty town, having the mother of all epiphanies.

For the first time in as long as he can remember, Zuko wouldn't change a single thing about his life right now. Or the three people who are unconsciously sharing this rather profound moment with him.

"Tell me more about this tree," he adds, in case he's being a bit weird.

"It's the one in Katara's garden," Mari says, and pauses to lick some syrup from her palm. "It used to be very big and very tall. Right, Katara?"

"Exactly right."

"And it was a very special tree," Aya adds. "People used to bring it presents. Like, every day, Dad, not only on its birthday. Right, Katara?"

"Right, Aya," Katara says, smiling at her over her coffee cup.

"I see," Zuko nods. "And what exactly do you buy for a tree as an everyday gift?"

"You don't buy it," Aya answers. "You find it. It likes wool and apples, right, Katara?"

"And tomatoes," Mari adds. "And hay, and beeswax, and honey. Right, Katara?"

"That's right, girls."

Aya looks back at Zuko. "These presents came from the earth, so they went back to the earth beside the tree, and they made it get big and strong. Because it's cycling." She wrinkles her nose. "Is it cycling?"

"Cyclical," Katara says, leaning over to steal the last strawberry and laughing when Aya squawks in protest.

"But, Dad," Mari says, suddenly somber. "Then after lots of years, people forgot to bring presents, and they forgot about the tree. And the tree got sad and wasn't strong anymore."

"Oh no," Zuko says sympathetically. He looks up at the grimy looking clock on the wall, and if it's working, they need to think about leaving. "Come on, finish up, hellions. It's late and you have school tomorrow. Right, Katara?"

"Right, Zuko," Katara says, smiling down at her cup.

::

The Residents' Committee meeting is two weeks later than normal owing to Reverend Li taking a vacation to visit his sister. When Zuko arrives at the hall, Zhao is already there, emptying the contents of a hamper onto the table. Tiny, highly polished forks clang against bone china side-plates as he sets it all out.

"Hello," Zuko says uncertainly.

"Good evening, Sheriff," Zhao replies without looking up from his task.

"What's all this?" Ms. Suki asks from behind Zuko.

"No idea," Zuko says, reaching quickly for a copy of the agenda. "I see that the reverend's vacation has done little to improve his temperament," he mutters while scanning the page. Grievances, complaints, boycotts, pickets, visitations, and Zuko's own item—an application for a small bursary—like grant to be given to Aang to aid the completion of his degree. It's right up there with a snowball's chance in hell.

Aunt Wu and Chong Tunnel are next in, glancing curiously at the unusual scene while they shrug out of their coats.

Zhao does a quick headcount. "Just waiting on Kuei and the reverend."

"Kuei's not coming," Chong tells him. "Do you have anything to go on these plates?"

Zhao lifts the plastic covering from a larger plate. "I brought a cake. It's my grandmother's recipe."

Zuko's eyes drop to his hands which are still slightly swollen and shiny. His fingers are slow to grip the knife, a little shaky while se slices through the cake, but they're no longer misshapen and disfigured.

"Did you make this yourself?" he asks.

Zhao answers with a stiff nod like any further enquiries into his ability to bake again would be intrusive and unwanted. He is, however, pleased to accept compliments about the lightness of his sponge and the tartness of his jam. Conversation isn't much more than sifting techniques and buttercream, but by Eerie Falls standards, this is holding hands around the campfire and singing _Kumbaya_.

The reverend arrives just as the plates are being stacked. He waits by the door for someone to begin cowering in his presence, for anyone to get up and hold the skirts of his coat as he thunders across the room.

But nobody gives him more than a mild glance.

"Chong," he snaps, and begins striding meaningfully forwards. "What is the meaning of this? Where's Kuei? He was supposed to pick me up before seven."

Chong sucks noisily on the tips of his fingers and then pats his belly in contentment. "He's not coming. His knee is still sore from the fall."

"I didn't know Kuei got hurt," Ms. Suki says. "Is he okay?"

"He is," Chong says. "He's been to see Katara, so he's on the mend." He says it easily, like Katara's an old friend and not someone who was recently on the receiving end of a plot to run her out of town.

The reverend's left eye begins twitching.

"Shall we begin?" Aunt Wu suggests, opening her ledger. "Sheriff?"

Zuko quickly runs through the usual business, including an upcoming appointment of a new rookie deputy. "And while I have the floor, if I could quickly discuss item sixteen on the agenda. You all know Aang. He looks after my kids—"

"We know who else has been looking after your children," the reverend sniffs.

"—and he's due to hand in his thesis next month," Zuko continues. "I was hoping that the committee might agree on a small contribution to his living costs while he takes some time off to finish his paper."

The reverend puts on his favorite disapproving expression, folding his hands over his crossed knees. "It is not the purpose of this committee to cater for the frivolous needs of students who—"

"Aang is a great kid, who deserves a little payback," Zuko cuts in. "He coaches the under-twelves soccer team, and helps Aunt Wu with the mobile library."

"Nonetheless," the reverend says, like that's the final word.

"C'mon," Zuko huffs, determined to be at least considered. "I'm thinking maybe five hundred bucks, which is just enough to keep him in ramen, bus tickets, and a JSTOR subscription for the next month. It's a gesture of goodwill more than anything."

"Five hundred dollars is a lot of money," the reverend says sanctimoniously.

"It's less than what your leaflets cost last month," Ms. Suki says. Her accounting system is the most bizarre that Zuko has ever seen, nothing more than a gathering of receipts that live in a battered box. But she can immediately lay her hands on any scrap of paper she needs. "And since January of this year, you have also been given twelve hundred dollars to have your house repainted, three thousand dollars towards church roof repairs, nine hundred dollars to provide refreshments for visiting clergy, and fourteen hundred dollars for religious tapestries that were handmade by Ms. Yu Shu Li. Who, I do believe, is your sister, Reverend."

"Are you suggesting," the reverend begins, his hands now claws scraping viciously along the seams of his pants. "That—"

"She's suggesting that we give the kid the money," Chong says. "And I agree. All in favor."

There are five ayes to the reverend's single nay.

And the night doesn't get any better for him.

"It is not the committee's place to audit the library's young adult fiction for unsuitable material, Reverend," Aunt Wu says coldly.

(All of those in favor of an audit, one. Those against, five.)

"It's the middle school winter dance," Ms. Suki says. "I think nine thirty is a perfectly reasonable time for it to end."

(All those in favor of an eight o'clock finish, one. Those against, five.)

"I'm just saying that science fiction is not actually the devil's work and I see no reason to picket the movie theatre on Thursday for showing a double bill of _The Fly_ and _The Fog_ ," Chong reasons. "Also, some of us are busy on Thursday nights."

"Doing what exactly?" the reverend demands.

"Yogalates," Chong says cheerfully. "My back has never felt better."

"Good for my hips, too," Ms. Suki adds.

Chong snorts. " _Your_ hips. I think you're much more interested in Katara's hips."

Ms. Suki blushes, her eyes darting around guiltily. "She does wear short shorts," she mutters in her defense.

(All those in favor of a picket outside the movie theatre, one. Those against, five.)

Zuko almost sympathizes with the reverend. The cracks in his armor are growing to crater size and underneath it is nothing more than a bitter, scared old man. The curtain has been truly pulled from the Wizard of Oz.

"Right," Aunt Wu says. "Any other business?"

There isn't, and Zuko is in his car ten minutes later, singing along loudly to eighties ballads. He turns to pass the gables when something catches his eye. It's like a quick flicker of orange, right where the Mourns is. He'd back up, but he's on a bend, so he drives on until he gets to a clearing that gives him an unobstructed view of Katara's place.

"What the…" he mutters, silencing the engine and Cyndi Lauper. His first thought is that there's a fire, but his heart settles when he hops from the car; the downwind carries no smoke or sound towards him, just the crisp smell of winter.

There is, however, something glowing on Katara's land, and Katara isn't home, because she's in Zuko's home with the girls. Zuko thinks about calling her, even goes so far as to fish his phone out of his pocket. His fingers stop just as he pulls up the number—he really doesn't want to alarm anybody, and it's likely just some weirdass mumbo-jumbo treatment that Katara's put on the soil herself. Some free range organic lava shit, or something.

He'll mention it to her when he gets back to the house, he decides, folding himself back into the cruiser. It's probably nothing. And he really wants to go home.

Or, it might be something. It might be something toxic, maybe something long buried that Katara has disturbed with the rotovator. It might be a chemical reaction, or a new spill, or—

"Fuck," Zuko hisses, and turns back in the way of the Mourns.

The front of the house is dark when he gets there, and he rummages around in the glove compartment for the flashlight before stepping out onto the gravel.

He's not utterly surprised to find more darkness around the back and he's not sure if he's pissed or relieved. The beams from the flashlight dance as he waves it around the land, showing up trenches and small hills of displaced earth. To the left is a tractor with a rotavator blade attached to the front, and on the right are the window boxes that the girls had helped Katara fill the day after Halloween. Behind them, the penned chickens are clucking and trilling quietly.

There's nothing unusual here, certainly nothing orange.

Zuko walks carefully down the path, the stones crunching under his feet as he follows the track all the way to the back of the garden where the big and dead looking tree is now bigger and not so dead looking. There are new green shoots that look days away from becoming leaves and clusters of tiny red berries in tight piles on the branches. It doesn't look anything like the firewood that Zuko had seen a couple of weeks ago. He flashes the light at the base of the trunk where there are mounds of vegetable peelings, egg shells, and flower clippings.

Presents, Zuko supposes. He's leaning in when a sudden noise makes him go perfectly still. It's a low humming sound that seems to be coming from the tree. He waits for it to stop; maybe it's from an animal or bird that he's disturbed. Maybe one of the chickens escaped from the coop. But it doesn't stop, and it doesn't sound like any creature Zuko knows. It's a soft drone, steady and continuous, a little like the dull hum of the refrigerator fan. He takes a cautious step forward and almost jumps right out of his skin when his cell rings.

"Fuck," he hisses, thoroughly spooked. He fumbles into his pocket and lifts the phone to his ear without checking the screen. "Zuko here."

"Hey," Katara says, and it's kind of stupid how just hearing that one word is a balm to Zuko's frayed nerves. "What are you doing?"

Zuko blows out a breath and flattens a palm against his racing heart. "I'm up at the Mourns. Thought there was a fire."

"You're at the Mourns? You're going to be filthy," Katara scolds. "It rained for most of the afternoon."

"Yeah," Zuko agrees ruefully, looking down at his muddied boots and pant hems.

"Come home," Katara orders, and Zuko is already walking back down the track. Going home sounds like a very good idea. "The girls said that if you're not here in the next ten minutes, they're going to eat your time of the month sandwich without you."

"Man," Zuko complains. He's going to have to start making two of those things.

When he hangs up, he looks around once more, but the Mourns is silent and dark again.

::

"Dad. Dad. DAAAAAAAADDD!"

Zuko bolts up on the bed, eyes flying open. "Shit," he hisses, fumbling for the switch on the lamp. He blinks the twins into the focus, both of them standing at the foot of the bed, smiling giddily.

"What the…" he says. His retinas feel like they're on fire. "What? Girls, what's wrong?"

"Happy birthday, Dad," is the answer. Zuko stares in disbelief as his daughters begin dancing around his bedroom, twirling and throwing their arms up in the air.

"You're kidding me." He knows they aren't, though. They love birthdays, anybody's birthday. Family, friends, dolls, teddy bears. Appa gets seven parties every year.

Zuko turns to the clock that isn't there anymore, pretty sure that it's the middle of the night.

"No, it's morning," Aya says. "And you have to open your presents. We got you thirty-one presents because you're thirty-one." She bends down to pick up a bag from the bottom of the bed, and Mari follows with another. They giggle in delight as they shake the contents onto Zuko's comforter, more or less drowning it under a carpet of purple and yellow homemade wrapping paper.

"Wow," Zuko says, truly stunned, and not yet fully awake.

"We'll start with the yellow presents," Mari decides, kneeing her way through the pile and plonking herself on Zuko's thigh. "Open this one first."

"Hold on," Zuko says, because apparently this is happening. He sits up a little more, stuffing a couple of pillows behind his back, and waves his hand about grandly. "Let the gifting commence."

"This one," Mari repeats, shaking the oblong package in his face.

Zuko takes it and unwraps it slowly, biting his lips when the girls squirm impatiently. "Oh, wow. Chocolate frogs. Your... I mean, _my_ favorite."

"There's three of them, Dad," Mari says, meaningfully. " _Three_ of them."

"I can see that," Zuko nods. "I could have one today, and one tomorrow, and one the next day."

There's about ten seconds of silence before Aya holds her hands up in a hear-me-out gesture. "Or you could share them. Just sayin."

The second present is a bag of walnuts, and the third is a pack of flower seeds. "Did you two leave anything for Katara's paying customers?" Zuko asks, when he's opened the rest, looking down at the pile of candles, books, natural sponges, and vegetable planters. "She _gave_ you this stuff, right?"

"We earned it," Mari says. "We did our prentice and assistant jobs, and she let us pick presents for our pay."

"Oh," Zuko says, a sudden lump in his throat. "You mean, you guys worked just to get me all this stuff?"

"Yes," Aya answers. "And now it's time for the purple presents, which are the ones we made."

Zuko begins unwrapping batch two, which includes a weird looking block of soap, a pasta pen holder, a bookmark, a friendship bracelet, a bath bomb, toothpaste, and a string picture of Prince Zuko. There are also a few things that Zuko neither knows the name of, or use for. But the last catches his breath.

It's a seashell-framed black and white photograph of the girls, Appa and Momo, all of them sacked out on the beanbags in Katara's library. Everything is blurred, except the humans and animals. None of them are looking at the camera, or even aware of the photographer. It's the sweetest little moment, captured forever.

"Okay, this is the best present I've ever got," Zuko says quietly. "And I think it's hugs time."

"After the coupons," Mari says.

"Coupons," Zuko repeats, raising his eyebrows. "Interesting."

"Awesome," Mari corrects, digging into the pocket of her nightgown and pulling out the first piece of card. She hands it over with great solemnity.

Zuko bites back a smile as he reads it. " _A No Complaining Day_. I've changed my mind. This is actually the best present I've ever got." He flips the card over and snorts when he reads the terms and conditions on the back. _Not valid on Mondays._ "Noted."

There are also vouchers for feeding the dog, the girls making their own lunch, and other chores that Zuko suspects will mean more work for him than less. But the thought behind each promise squeezes his chest painfully, as does the care that has been taken with each one. The writing and the cutting, while not perfect, are definitely the girls' best efforts.

"Now the hugs," Aya declares, and there's a flurry of limbs as they set upon Zuko, squeezing him tight and laughing as he smothers them with kisses. It's not the worst, he thinks, being thirty-one, even if he does have to get up and go to work. "Okay, so what do we want for breakfast?" he asks, reaching under the pillow for his phone. "How about…" Zuko stops and stares at the screen in disbelief. "Hellions," he says slowly. "It's four a.m."

The girls nod, like this news doesn't surprise them.

"But… but you said it was morning time."

"Yes, Dad," Aya says patiently, like he's the child. "It's four in the morning."

"Oh my god," Zuko says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Oh my dear god. I think I'm going to cry." He means it, too.

The twins turn to giggle at each other, which has always been their way of letting Zuko know they know something he doesn't—a not-so-secret secret code.

"Katara said you would probably say that, so she gave us this," Mari says, reaching into her pocket for the last piece of card. Zuko takes it, grumbling about how it had better be a coupon for a child-free vacation.

 _This entitles the reader to demand that his children get back into bed and sleep for at least two more hours. Happy Birthday! (also, check the doorstep when you wake up. Again. :))_

"Did Katara know you were going to wake me up at this hour?" Zuko asks, waving the slip.

"She knew we were excited about your birthday," Aya says vaguely. "She helped us get everything ready."

"And she helped with the wrapping when we got tired," Mari says. "And she helped with the candle we made. And she helped us to hide everything."

"She's very helpful, Dad," Aya summarizes.

"And yet," Zuko says, beginning to gently shove the gifts onto the floor. "Not here to help with the clean up." It's not a real complaint, doesn't even sound like it might be one. He's more than a little overwhelmed by Katara's part in this collaborative project. Zuko knows his kids—loves his kids—but he knows their big ideas and their best intentions, and how quickly they hop from one shiny thing to another. She must have picked up some serious slack.

"Come on. I'm cashing this in right now," he says, tugging the comforter free. The girls scramble around to get under it with him because whose bed wasn't specified on the coupon, and Zuko's not wasting precious sleep minutes on an argument he's going to lose.

"Five seconds until light's out," he warns, and turns off the lamp after only two. The girls squeal and grumble a little, but they're out less than a minute later. Zuko's about twenty seconds behind them.

::

A few hours later, he swears quietly when he stands on at least two of his many gifts after he climbs out of bed. But he manages to escape the room without waking the girls, and keeps his footsteps light as he pads down the stairs. When he's pulling the front door open, he almost feels silly and fanciful; it's six thirty and pretty unlikely that Katara would be making gift drops in the total darkness. "Check your doorstep" could mean—

There's a huge coffee and a frosted donut on the step; one boiling hot, the other freshly baked. Zuko stares into the black morning when he picks them up, but there's no sign of any living creature, certainly not one with long brown hair and smiling blue eyes.

"Weird," he mumbles, taking a last long look before hip-checking the door closed. He takes his newest gifts into the kitchen and gives himself his own birthday present, fifteen minutes of peace and quiet before he wakes his daughters.

Katara wishes him happy birthday in person when Zuko calls into _Bell, Book, and Candle_ that evening.

"Thanks," Zuko says. He stomps his frozen feet on the ground and blows warm breath into his cupped hands. "And while I'm at it, thanks for everything else, too. It couldn't have been easy helping the girls get all those presents together."

"The worst bit was coloring in the wrapping paper," Katara says, lips twisting to the side. "Apparently, I was doing it wrong."

"You did something wrong?" Zuko mock-gasps, eyes wide. "I didn't think you were capable of it. According to the girls, you're like, I don't know, some kind of magic goddess."

She smiles at him from across the counter. "From the man who hung the moon in the sky. You have no idea of how many times I hear, 'but Katara, our dad does it this way, but Katara, our dad always says this, but Katara, our dad would never, but Katara, our dad walks on water.'"

"Yeah?" Zuko grins, pleased. He's never really thought about how the girls talk about him to other people, but he's happy to have been given such a good review.

"Yeah," Katara says, laughing at his face. "So, how was your day?"

"Weird," Zuko answers. He rests his elbows on the counter and leans in. "Like, unbelievably weird, because it appears that everyone in town knows that it's my birthday, which isn't even the weird part. The weird part is that they cared. People wished me a happy birthday, people gave me stuff. Hama even gave me a tin of marron glacé. I don't even know what marron glacé is… are? And, Mika wouldn't charge me for my car wash today, which, I mean, this is the guy that once syphoned a dollar's worth of gas back out of a customer's tank because they were short." He stops and shrugs at an amused Katara. "It's like some kind of miracle."

Katara grins. "Sounds pretty miraculous to me."

"It was a great day," Zuko says. "Well, except for the part where a guy crashed his truck into the low rise bridge just outside town. He clearly didn't get the be-nice-to-me memo. It took three hours to get him free again. My hands are so frozen they might snap off." He holds them up, waving almost ruefully. "My kingdom for a pair of gloves."

Katara smiles sympathetically. "So, what else are you doing to celebrate?"

"All I want to do right now is go home, get the girls fed and into bed, and I'm not even going to lie, but I'm hoping Aang has already got a head start on that. Then I'm going to defrost in the shower and reheat some of the birthday pancakes Toph got Elmer to make for me." Zuko pulls a face as soon as he stops speaking. "Man, that sounds kinda pathetic, but I'm so tired that this is all I truly want to do." He remembers when birthdays were a five day event, and none of them particularly sober. "I used to be fun," he tells her. "I promise."

"Maybe you could do something fun this weekend," she says, and there's a suggestive undercurrent there that makes Zuko's heart skip a little.

"Maybe," he says, hoping that's going to followed up with a specific suggestion. But Katara doesn't say anything else and it gets pretty awkward very quickly, both of them looking at each other like they're waiting.

"Well," Zuko says to break the silence.

"So," Katara says, at exactly the same time. "Mari left her scarf here yesterday." She reaches under the counter and takes out a paper bag that she hands to Zuko.

Zuko takes it, and looks around as if he might find something to say on the walls and shelves of the store. "I should probably get going."

"Chestnuts," Katara says.

"Bless you?"

"Marron glacé," she says, smiling again. "They're candied chestnuts."

"Oh. And, ew."

The girls are already asleep when he gets in, and Aang's in a hurry to get back to his books, so Zuko hits the shower and is feeling a good deal warmer by the time he gets downstairs again. He pops the pancakes into the microwave, and shakes Mari's scarf from the bag. A smaller package falls out with it, wrapped in cloth, tied with twine. Zuko squints to read the tiny tag made from cardboard— _To Zuko, from Katara. Happy Birthday!_

He laughs when he opens it, uncovering a pair of gloves, hand-knit, and judging by the very bright pattern, most likely the work of Ms. Suki. He slips his hands into them, sighing softly when his fingers are hugged by the soft fleece lining.

"That is so freaky," Zuko mutters to himself, definitely feeling a whole lot better about everything.


	10. Chapter 10

"We can't put all the fruit together yet, Dad," Mari says just as Zuko is about to toss the sliced oranges into the bowl with the strawberries.

"I think putting the fruit all together is pretty much the point of a fruit salad," Zuko replies. It's their contribution to the family Thanksgiving dinner, and while Katara had been kind enough to provide them with enough fruit to feed an army, he hadn't hung around to cut it all up.

"But Katara says that putting some fruits together too soon will make them mushy and taste like each other," Mari says. Her tone suggests that Zuko really should know this.

Zuko looks around at all the chopped fruit, "So, what's the plan?"

"Put it in separate containers, Dad," Mari answers with a long suffering sigh. "That's why she gave us all these tupperwares." She jerks her head at a pile of boxes and goes back to cutting up the… Zuko's not even sure what.

"What is that?"

"It's loquat. It tastes a little bit like peaches and a little bit like mangos and a little bit like oranges. It comes from China, and the pips have poison in them. But don't worry, Dad, lots of fruits have poison pips, like apples and cherries. Katara says it's safe if you don't bite them or swallow too many of them."

Zuko smiles at her entirely serious face. "Hey," he teases. "Remember when you thought parsnips were yellow carrots?"

"That was when I was six," Mari replies, tossing her hair haughtily over her shoulder. "I'm six and four months now. I'm not a baby anymore."

"Even when you're sixty and four months, you'll still be my baby," Zuko says, crossing the floor to join her at the table. He drops a quick kiss on her scrunched up nose. "So, I'll put the strawberries in this container, and the oranges in this container. And then what?"

Mari purses her lips while she decides on his next mission. "I guess you could do the plums. They're already very ripe. Katara says that ethylene makes the fruit get ripe. And she says that you have to keep the lots of ethylene fruits away from the other fruits."

"Katara certainly says a lot of things," Zuko muses, reaching for the basket of purple plums.

"Yes," Mari agrees as she makes a start on another loquat. "She says that Appa can probably see better than us but he can't see all the colors. And she says that flies hum in the key of F, like our recorders, and that people can't hum when they hold their noses."

Zuko immediately tests that theory, making Mari giggle while he tries to blow sound from his sealed lips and nose. "Told you," she sing songs when he holds his hands up in defeat.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Katara's awesome."

"That's what she says about you," Mari says, matter of fact, and for a moment Zuko's mind blanks. He feels a sudden urge to blurt— _What? When did she say this? Tell me exactly what she said. Exactly. Leave nothing out. What was the context? Do you think she was being serious? What else did she say? Wanna go for a milkshake and you can tell me if she like-likes me?_

"I've just remembered something else Katara says," is what he does say, stepping closer to Mari.

She looks up, head tilted, and laughs loudly when he scoops her up. "She said," Zuko says, nuzzling her temple. "That you have to give me the biggest hug you have."

She laughs again, but tightens her arms around him. "It's sad that she can't come to Thanksgiving with us."

"Yeah," Zuko agrees. "But Zhao asked her first." Zuko isn't even fully sure how he feels about that. Surprised, certainly—not that Katara accepted, but that Zhao offered. Maybe he was a little disappointed, but that passed quickly. His family would be far too excited by Zuko bringing a guest, and while Katara copes well with two adoring fans, she might be a little overwhelmed by the attentions of his extremely nosy sister.

Maybe next year.

"Right," he says, giving Mari one last squeeze. "I'm going to see where your sister is and why she isn't helping. No knives while I'm gone."

He finds his other daughter upstairs in her room. She's lying on the ground, hands resting palms up, legs relaxed, feet slightly turned out. Her chest rises and falls as she takes deep breaths that are held and released rhythmically.

Zuko clears his throat quietly and bites back a smile when her eyes flutter.

"Go away, Dad," she whispers. "I'm meditating."

"Can I meditate, too?" he asks. "Looks like fun."

One eye opens and regards him skeptically. "You're bad at being quiet," Aya tells him.

"I won't say a word," Zuko promises, lying down beside her and laughing silently when she huffs and moves over a little. He mirrors her pose and closes his eyes. "What now?" he asks.

"Breathe and be quiet," Aya answers, impatient.

Zuko gives it a try, following the pattern of her breathing. He's thinking that he might have this down when a smaller knee taps against his. "Dad! You're too loud."

He turns his head to find her glaring at him. "Sorry," he whispers. "I'm new to this."

Her look changes to one that warns him he's on thin ice. "You're ruining my visualizing," she says.

"I thought we were meditating?"

"Dad." There's a long pause, which Zuko suspects is the build up to him getting kicked out of the room for real. But when Aya speaks again, her tone is softer, like she's reminded herself to stay calm. "Visualizing is meditating. Katara helped me learn how to do it, and now I do it every day. It helps me when I'm stressed."

He hates hearing that word from her mouth, hates that she knows it, that she can use it in a correct context, which in this case is her actual life. "Oh, like that…" What did Katara call it? Mindfulness? "Does it help?" He already suspects that it might, given that school continues to be a fraught free zone.

She nods, but doesn't turn away, doesn't close her eyes again. Zuko looks back at her, feeling his stomach twist at the idea of Katara fixing something for her that he couldn't. "And do you talk to Katara about what makes you stressed?"

She takes her time answering. "Katara always tells me that I can talk to you about anything."

"You can," he says softly. "You can tell me anything."

She blinks at him almost lazily for another long minute. "Can I tell you what I visualize? I've never told anyone else."

"Sure," Zuko says, trying not to get too excited about this rare sharing moment in case his enthusiasm frightens it away. It feels fragile, ready to bolt.

"Do you remember when we went to the real nice hotel last summer? And you got me the floatie for the swimming pool, and it looked like a cell phone with numbers and everything?"

It had been a gift for the girls' fifth birthday, a trip paid for by Zuko's family. There had been a lot of highlights; for Zuko it was getting out of Eerie Falls for a bit, for Mari it was the breakfast buffet, and for Aya it was the floatie that she slept on, in and out of the water.

"I think about being there again," Aya continues. "I'm floating in the hotel pool. I have my sunglasses on, and I'm thinking about things, all the stressful things. I get them all together in my head, and then I throw them up into the air. Then they fall back down again because of gravity, and they land in the water, and the water keeps them. It won't let any of them back out. So then I'm safe on my floatie. I'm on top of all the bad thoughts and floating away from them. And I think about nice things, like what makes me happy. Like when we go walking with Appa or when it snows or when we watch cats on the iPad."

Zuko stares up at the ceiling. "And you're not worried anymore?" He hears her head shake in response, her hair dragging on the carpet. "Sounds cool. Can I share your floatie?"

"Get your own," she says, and giggles.

Man, she is such his child. "Fine," Zuko huffs. "I will. I'll get the best floatie in the world. It'll be in the shape of a boat, and there'll be a holder for drinks and a little place to put snacks. I'll even get one of those people to paddle it for me, like what do you call it, a gondola —"

"Dad!"

"Sorry," he says, insincerely. But he settles back and tries to make his own head go quiet. There could be something in this, even if it's just a few minutes to lie on the floor next to his relaxed daughter. It's a bit scratchy though. He should probably get a new carpet for this room. This one has been here since they moved in, and it's become rough and flat. The problem will be getting the girls to agree on a color; Aya will want something busy and bright, Mari will prefer something floofy and pastel. He wonders how Mari is doing downstairs. She knows not to touch the knives when he's not there. Not that the knives are very sharp. They're probably older than the carpet. Maybe he should—

"Oh my god, Dad," Aya says. "Your head is so noisy!"

"Going," Zuko agrees, pushing himself up off the floor with a heavy grunt.

::

Thanksgiving is as lively and loud as it is every year, and Zuko spends most of the afternoon catching up with extended family, while trying to make his one beer last for the whole game. He's down to the dregs when his uncle calls everyone to a table that is buckling under the weight of enough food to last an apocalypse. There are cheers and whistles as everyone scrambles for a chair.

Zuko sits between the girls, and they pass around the side dishes of mashed potato, stuffing, sprouts, green beans, canned corn, and candied yams. One cousin has also brought along two types of gravy, and a very colorful looking cranberry sauce. Everything is topped with mounds of slightly hacked turkey.

"Before we begin, a toast to the cooks," his uncle Iroh says, raising a glass.

All other glasses are lifted and sipped from, and there's a little amiable bickering over who exactly did what and who exactly sloped off to watch a bit of the game.

"And a salute to absent friends," Iroh adds, sobering the banter somewhat.

"Absent friends," is chorused around the room, drinks lifted and held in the air. It's always a solemn moment, but Zuko refuses to feel anything but grateful when he thinks of afternoon naps with his grandpa, and stealing chunks of grandma's fudge, and listening to Mai laugh wildly at something inappropriate.

Before there was the worst of times, there was the best of times.

"One last thing," Iroh says, his tone firm. "We are each going to say what we are thankful for, but given that there are nineteen people at this table, we're going to be super quick. It would be simply unacceptable to allow this bounty to get cold. I'm looking at you, Miss Mari." He winks at her to take the sting from his teasing, and she smiles back at him.

Mari's thankfuls are epic. She hates leaving anybody out, often feels the need to name every living creature she is grateful for, right down to the frogs that were living in the backyard. One time, she had to be cut off after seven minutes, and she hadn't been best pleased.

As the youngest, Aya gets to start. "I'm thankful for my sister and my dad and my family and Appa and Momo and Aang and Katara. That's all."

Mari is next. "I'm thankful for everyone and everything and everyone and Aya and Dad and Katara. And everyone." She looks at Zuko. "Was that okay, Dad?"

"That was perfect," Zuko answers, bending to kiss her hair. "You covered it all. And it's my turn now, so I would just like to say that I'm thankful for this great day, for this lovely food, and for everyone at this table, especially my amazing children." He nods at Azula, and she's just opening her mouth to speak when a distressed sound silences the room.

"What?" Zuko says, looking at his scandalized daughters. "I mentioned you two. I said 'my children'. You do know that my children are you guys?"

Aya blinks betrayed eyes at him. "But you didn't say that you're thankful for Katara."

"Dad!" Mari gasps, her dismayed face asking how could he. "You have to say thanks for Katara."

"Oh jeez," Zuko mutters. All eyes are on him, narrowed and interested, and accompanied by smirky smiles. It's very possible that this isn't the first time the twins have mentioned Katara today. Zuko can feel the flush begin at the back of his neck, spreading until it disappears into his hairline, and if he can feel it, everyone else can probably see it. Seriously, he hasn't been this embarrassed at Thanksgiving since Azula announced his crush on his fifth grade band partner to the entire table. "I'm thankful for Katara," he adds with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say, none whatsoever.

"Well," Azula says, after leaving the silence undisturbed for a few seconds. "I'm very thankful for that entertainment. I'm also thankful for everyone seated here today, for my friends and colleagues. And, of course, for Katara."

Mari and Aya nod solemnly, like it's Katara's due to be thanked by everyone at the table. Which she is. Mark, his cousin's boyfriend, is very grateful for football and Katara. Aunt Pol is thankful for her new hip and Katara. Yet another aunt is blessed with the success of her new bike shop, and Katara.

"Yeah, yeah," Zuko grumbles, but it's good natured, much like the grins and waggling eyebrows that are being hurled at him. "I'm just thankful that's over. Let's eat."

Later, Azula corners him in the kitchen as he loads the dishwasher. "So," she says, resting a hip against the counter.

"So, you were right," he says immediately, just to get this conversation over and out of the way. "I have something. I don't know if it'll be everything. But Katara and I are good again, and nothing else is new."

"That is," she says, pointing at Zuko's face.

"What?" Zuko asks, lifting his hands to touch his cheeks.

"That dumb grin," Azula laughs. "We haven't seen that in a while."

Zuko rolls his eyes. "Hellions," he hollers. "Aunt Azula would love to hear you playing _Jingle Bells_ again."

::

The thing about Katara being so busy is that Zuko is significantly less busy. It feels suspiciously like there might be a correlation.

"Do you hear that?" Zuko asks Toph, gesturing around what passes for the station's bullpen—a smattering of six desks and a vending machine.

Toph looks up from her paperwork and pulls a pen from between her teeth. "What?" she says, cocking her head. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly," Zuko says, sighing in satisfaction as he kicks his feet up onto his table. "No bitching, no whining, no grumbling. No 'her dog pooped on my lawn' or 'his car is too loud' or 'those kids are having fun'. There hasn't been one single stupid complaint all day."

Toph rolls her shoulders, her face thoughtful. "It's been pretty quiet for a while now. Hey, you want to hear something weird?"

"Absolutely not," Zuko says firmly.

"So, you know how it's garbage collection today, which means that Mark Lahey and Lucy Dixon will have been getting into it over who leaves whose trash cans on whose part of the sidewalk?"

"Stop talking, Toph."

"No," Toph says insistently. "I drove by on my way in, thinking I might be able to head it off before it starts. And guess what?"

"I don't want to know."

"You really do. Mark was only helping Lucy carry her garbage out, _and_ they were having a very pleasant conversation about the weather."

"Really?"

Toph nods thoughtfully. "There's something strange afoot," she says in a bizarre accent and then laughs at herself. She feels around for another cookie to dunk in her coffee. "But I'm okay with it."

Zuko frowns, jolted a little by someone else recognizing all the recent strangeness. "You noticed that, too?" he says, just as his cells buzzes near his feet. He sits up to answer it. "Aang?"

"Firstly, everyone is fine," Aang says, and Zuko is already grabbing his keys and hightailing it for the door.

"Tell me," he says, careful to keep his tone measured.

"Appa got hit by a car," Aang says. "We were two minutes away from your house when he dropped his tennis ball. It rolled onto the road, and he went after it."

Zuko unlocks the door of the cruiser, and slides into the seat. "The girls?"

Aang sighs. "They're fine." He sighs again. "I mean, they saw what happened but they're okay now. Katara is here with them."

"Katara? How did she get there?"

"I don't even know… Aya was screaming for her, and she was just around the corner. I think. I don't really know. It was pretty crazy."

"And the driver of the car?"

"Sheriff?"

"Yeah," Zuko shouts. "I'm pulling out of the yard. You're on speaker. The driver of the car, Aang?"

"She's fine," Aang answers. "She was the only occupant. Already called a tow service, and I think that's them pulling up now."

"She a local?"

"No, heading west. She missed the exit loop."

Zuko takes a deep breath. With all the humans accounted for, he asks, "The dog?"

Aang huffs out a disbelieving laugh. "Alive, amazingly. He didn't move for about five minutes, but Katara says he was just in shock."

"Where is he? Is he lying on the road?" Zuko asks, playing a little risk with a mostly red light.

"No, Katara lifted him into the bed of her truck. He's conscious, a bit quiet, but the girls are petting him and he's not complaining."

"Okay. I'm almost there."

A minute later, he's at the corner of his street, pulling up against the sidewalk. The lights of the tow truck are attracting quite an audience, and Aang is helping the guy with the chains and hooks. Zuko heads straight for Katara's truck, the tailgate wide open.

"Hey," he says softly, and he barely has time to lift his arms before Aya comes crashing into them.

"Dad," she howls, wiping tears and snot into his neck. "It's my fault. I let go of his leash."

"Baby," he murmurs helplessly, rubbing her back. "It's okay."

Katara smiles weakly at him from where she's sitting with Mari on the back of the truck, both of them gently petting the dog.

"Mari?" Zuko says. "How are you doing there?"

Mari looks up at him with watery eyes that break his heart. "The car hit Appa, Dad," she says miserably, her hands light as they stroke down the dog's coat. "And I love him."

"I know you do, sweetheart," Zuko says quietly. "I think I might take him to see the vet, just to make sure that he's not hurt."

Appa lifts his head when he hears that, and gives Zuko a look that almost says he knows what going to the vet means. It's highly unimpressed, and settles Zuko's swirling stomach a little.

"Good idea," Katara says, sliding out the doors. "Keys are in the ignition. I'll take the girls."

Aya goes to her reluctantly, and Mari knees her way to the door to take Katara's other arm.

"I should probably go over and see how the driver is before I go," Zuko sighs, but Katara shakes her head.

"Just go. It's fine. Your coworkers are here."

"Where?" Zuko wonders, craning his head just in time to see another cruiser pull up.

"Go," Katara insists as the junior officer kills the engine and Toph gets out of the passenger seat.

To argue would waste more time than he has, so Zuko leans over to kiss the girls' heads. It would be so easy, he thinks suddenly, to lean up and kiss Katara, too. Snatch a little comfort for himself.

But he steps away before he embarrasses just about everybody.

::

Dr. Hei Bai puts his stethoscope down and shrugs at Zuko. "He's fine."

Zuko can't quite believe it himself. When they had arrived, Appa had hopped out of the truck and trotted into the vet's practice unaided, if a little hesitantly. He sat obediently for his examination, even giving Hei Bai a hopeful lick as if to ward off any potential shots. "Nothing broken?"

Hei Bai throws a tennis ball across the room, and Appa bounds across after it, sniffing and pawing, and slobbering happily all over his prize. "That answer your question?"

Zuko supposes it does. "What about internal bleeding, that kind of thing?"

"His eyes are clear, his pulse is good, he's not in any kind of shock, he didn't flinch where I touched, he's not protecting any part of his body. I can only do a physical examination here, and you could take him to the clinic down the highway, but I really don't think it's necessary. By the sound of things, he got lucky. That's a happy ending in my book."

"I guess I'll just take him home?"

"I guess," Hei Bai agrees, calling Appa to him with a whistle for a last once-over. "What's that?" he says, smelling his hand and then pressing his nose into the dog's hair. "Can I smell arnica?" He sniffs again. "Hawthorn?"

Zuko shrugs. "Katara might have put something on him."

"Ah," Hei Bai says, smiling now and scratching under the dog's chin. "Katara got to you first, huh, boy? No wonder you were all mended before you got to me." He looks back up at Zuko. "She's a smart one, that woman. Knows her remedies."

"Right," Zuko says uncertainly. He would swear that he remembers Hei Bai being part of the anti-Katara committee that gathered outside her store on opening day.

"Cured my nighttime hiccups. Plagued me for years, hadn't had a proper night's sleep in as long as I can remember. Every time I lay down, _hic-hic_. Wears a man down, makes him cranky and mean. Didn't think anyone could do anything, but Katara just gave me a drop of this and a drop of that, and I haven't looked back. Two drops to the back of the throat every bedtime, and I'm out. Of course, the flip side of that was I started to keep my wife awake with my snoring instead. But she went to see Katara, and she gave her some other drops, and she sleeps right through it now."

"I see," Zuko says politely.

"It's been weeks since she tried to smother me with her pillow."

Zuko blinks at him. "Right. Well, thank you for the help with…"

They both look at the dog. Appa just lolls his tongue, happy as a peach, fit as a fiddle.


	11. Chapter 11

Appa sits up front on the way home, chewing softly on his seatbelt.

"Ugh," Zuko grumbles when he's unbuckling it again. "You really are gross."

The dog ruffs, looking over Zuko's shoulder before leaping to the ground.

"What?" Zuko asks when the dog barks again. "What are you barking at?"

"Me, maybe," a voice says. It belongs to a kid who steps out from behind the truck. He's tall, athletic looking with shaggy hair, and has dark eyes that are regarding Appa warily. "Are you the sheriff?"

Zuko nods, and the kid smiles widely, shaking off one of his gloves. "I'm Jet. Good to meet you."

"You too," Zuko say automatically, accepting the outstretched hand. It's cold, and he wonders just how long this Jet has been casing Zuko's house. The name is familiar, but he just can't reach from where—

"Your new trainee deputy?" Jet offers. "I was supposed to meet you at five, at the station?"

"Oh, yes, of course. I'm Zuko. Which you probably already know." Zuko gives the hand another shake, squeezing an apology into it. "I'm so sorry—"

The front door opens and the girls come bounding out of the house, squealing so loudly that Jet looks alarmed again.

"My kids," Zuko explains as Appa gets set upon by two tiny terrors. Not that he seems to mind, graciously accepting the bear hugs and kisses with sloppy licks and a tail that might just wag itself right off. "And this is our dog. He had a little accident tonight, and I'm just back from the vet —"

"He's okay, Dad, right?" Mari shouts. "Is he really better?"

"Healthiest dog in the whole of Eerie Falls," Zuko assures her, and then winces. "Aw, jeez, hellions. You have no shoes or sweaters on. Come on, inside before we need another doctor." He turns back to Jet. "You too."

Jet backs away a little. "Oh, I didn't mean to intrude… I could just go back to the station—"

"Argue with me inside," Zuko insists, trotting in after the girls and the dog. "Where it's warmer. Just please ignore the mess."

"What mess?" Jet asks, stepping in behind them.

What mess, indeed. The sitting room is warm and bright, the fire crackling, the mantle almost glowing with lit candles that Zuko definitely doesn't own. Spiced vanilla wafts around in comforting waves, giving the room something that a coffee table magazine would call _ambiance_. The toys that he was too tired to argue with the girls about last night are piled in their boxes, lined up neatly in the corner. Two pairs of small pajamas that were flung over the sofa are now folded and warming on the radiator. It even looks like someone ran the vacuum around, leaving telltale tracks in the thread.

Jet makes his way to the fire and stands with his back to it, stomping the cold out of his feet. "You have a lovely home, Sheriff."

Apparently, Zuko does. The door of the kitchen opens just as he's got his own feet freed from their boots.

"Hi," Katara says, a dish towel wrapped around her middle, tucked into the waistband of her jeans. She raises a questioning eyebrow at their guest. "Hello."

Zuko makes the introductions, and then groans when another smell punches him right in the stomach, making his mouth water. "Oh my god," he mumbles, nodding over Katara's head. "What is going on in there?"

"Gumbo," she answers, smiling. "I made most of it earlier today, so ready in twenty minutes. Which leaves you time enough for a quick shower. Everything good with the patient?"

They all look at Appa rolling around the floor with the girls.

Zuko holds his hands up in a helpless gesture. "Yes? Hei Bai says he might be a bit bruised, but that's the worst of the damage."

"Good," Katara nods. "Hei Bai's a great vet. You'll join us for dinner, Jet? Are you okay with shellfish? I haven't added it yet."

"Oh no, I couldn't," Jet says quickly. His default face seems to be set on 'startled'. "No. I mean yes. To the shellfish, yes. As in, I'm okay with it. I actually love it. But I'm interrupting your evening, and I didn't mean to—" He sighs wistfully. "Man, that really does smell amazing."

"It'll taste amazing, too," Zuko promises, already heading for the stairs. "Make yourself at home."

He stays in the shower until the water starts to grow tepid, letting the spray beat the stress of the last few hours clean out of him. Showering is typically more functional than therapeutic, especially when the girls are awake, and this is a luxury Zuko would love to get used to.

"Are you alive in there?" Katara roars up the stairs eventually, and Zuko smiles as he steps out of the tub. He dries off quickly, and dresses in sweats and a t-shirt that could probably do with an iron, but are definitely clean.

There are even more surprises back in the kitchen. The breakfast dishes are washed and stacked on the drainer, the table is cleared of cereal boxes and on it is a plate of warmed pita bread and a dish of hummus that Jet is chewing his way through while Mari talks to him nonstop.

Aya is keeping a typical distance, as physically far away from the intruder as possible. All Zuko can see of her are the toes of orange socks from where she's sitting on the tiles, the dog blanketing her.

He snags a bit of bread for himself, and muffles an insincere offer of help to Katara.

"You can sit," Katara commands, nodding to a freshly opened bottle of beer, and Zuko doesn't argue. He's more than happy to bask in the feeling of being looked after.

"Jet is living with Zhao," Mari tells him when he takes a chair. "He's from all the way across the country and his real name is Jedidiah and he has four brothers and none of them like bananas."

"I'd swear you were a town crier in a past life," Zuko teases, and then turns to Jet. "You're really going to live with Zhao?"

"Shrimp's in," Katara says before Jet can answer. "About four minutes. Girls, wash your hands." Mari pushes away from the table, but Aya just looks around the dog, staring balefully at Jet from under her lashes. Zuko can sense her emotional overcharge, and knows that a meltdown is pretty inevitable. She's had enough of today already, and having to share what's left of it with a stranger in her space is really stretching her past her tipping point. She could probably do with a quiet trip on her floatie.

"I don't want to wash my hands," she mutters stubbornly.

"You should," Katara says mildly. "The hawthorn and bach that you put on Appa earlier might still be on your skin. Great for healing, but not great for eating."

Aya stares at her hands. "They're fine," she decides.

"You're probably right," Katara says agreeably. "As long as you stay away from the shrimp. And the sausage."

"Why?" she demands, eyes narrowed.

"Hawthorn makes fish and meat taste like vinegar," Katara says. Zuko's pretty sure that's bullshit but he smiles to himself when Aya studies her hands some more.

"I hate vinegar," she says.

Katara shrugs. "You should be okay if you just eat the vegetables. You can have extra rice. I'll give Mari your sausage, and Jet your shrimp. Just to be safe."

If there was dust on the floor it would have been unsettled with the speed Aya exits from under Appa, and skids out the door. Her feet thump loudly on the stairs as she races for the bathroom.

"Excellent parental manipulation," Jet laughs, and dives in for more bread. "So, why does everyone kind of look surprised when I tell them that I'm going to be staying with Zhao? Should I be worried?"

Zuko gets a little stuck on _parental_.

"Sheriff?"

"No," Zuko says, shaking his head. "It's just that Zhao doesn't typically take lodgers. He's a little sharp with his tongue, and he won't let you get away with anything. But he's fair, and he's a hell of a baker. And according to Katara, he makes a mean turkey dinner." It's funny, but a few weeks ago, he'd have been giving Jet a very different answer, and probably be offering him a sofa until he could sort something else out.

"True story," Katara says over her shoulder, and goes back to the saucepan. "His sweet potato mash is also the best I've ever tasted."

"That'll do for now," Jet says easily. "If I get through my probation, I can look long-term."

That segues them into shop talk, which is mostly a rundown of shift hours, duties, mentoring, and the two most important rules of the station; write everything down and never drink out of Toph's mug.

The girls are back just as Katara's dishing up, and now there's another problem. There are only four chairs at the table, and most of the time the fourth chair is home for clean laundry that hasn't made its way upstairs yet. And often worn again before that happens.

It's been a long time since five chairs were needed, a long time since five people were eating in this kitchen at the same time.

Mari hops up to where she was sitting a few minutes ago, between Zuko and Jet, and Katara takes the last place.

"I don't have a seat," Aya says, and Zuko reaches out for her. Katara gets there first, lifting her onto her lap.

"Correction, you have the best seat in the house," she says.

"But it's squashy," Aya complains. "I have no room." On any other day Zuko would be pinching the bridge of his nose and biting his tongue.

Katara just lifts Aya's plate and empties it onto her own. "You do now," she says, reaching back to slide the empty plate into the sink.

Aya looks down at the giant pile of gumbo. "We're going to share?"

"So long as you don't eat all the shrimp," Katara warns.

Aya beams at her like she just might, and then fishes out the biggest prawn, biting into it savagely. "Doesn't taste like vinegar."

Katara grins back at her. "You must have washed your hands extra good."

"This is amazing," Jet says, taking another hefty mouthful. "Are you a chef, Katara?"

"She should be," Zuko says, humming happily as he shovels food into his mouth. He hopes there's leftovers. There wouldn't be a single complaint if this was all he had to eat for the next week.

"I run the store across the street," Katara tells Jet.

"That must be pretty convenient for you," Jet says, and then laughs when a giggling Aya steals the sausage right off Katara's fork.

"Hey," Katara mock-growls, making Aya giggle louder.

"We go to the store after school," Mari chimes in. "Would you like some water, Jet? We made it ourselves."

Jet's eyebrows rise. "You made your own water? That's impressive."

"No, it's easy," Mari says, leaning in. "First you get the water out of the faucet, and put it into a jug. Then you add ice and mint leaves. And that's all."

"Clever," Jet laughs, and pours himself a glass. "This is very fine dining indeed."

"I helped make the water," Aya blurts, and then presses her back against Katara, half shy, half mulish. Katara rests her chin on her head and tightens her arm around her.

And to continue the theme of meal related realizations, Zuko is completely in love with her. One hundred percent, ass over teakettle, toss in the towel, send in the clowns, give up the ghost, pull up the anchor, stone cold in love with her.

"You okay?" Katara asks, and Zuko nods while stuffing his mouth as full as possible just to stop himself from smiling his face off, or throwing up. It feels like the lesser of all possible indignities. Also, it would also be foolish to waste any of this culinary heaven, not when it's reawakening Zuko's tastebuds from the dead.

Jet finishes his plate first, and while he's having a second helping, the girls leave the table to watch some TV. Zuko gets up and puts some coffee on. The conversation is easy; Jet is personable and chatty and Zuko has a good gut feeling about him.

Katara seems to like him, too, telling him about the organic produce she has at the store, because Jet is another health freak who fully appreciates her weirdness.

"Do you grow your own vegetables?"

"Not yet," Katara answers. She crosses her ankle over her knee and cups her hands around her mug. "The soil isn't great. I'm trying out some new treatments, and if they work, I'll pass them on to other farmers, see if they can get some agriculture going. Almost all of the land around the town is unutilized or used for animal farming."

"And animal poisoning," Zuko adds, sipping his coffee by the sink. "We investigate at least two accusations a month. That'll keep you busy."

Jet's face twists in horror. "Animal poisoning?"

"Irwan Prayitno and Van Ngo run the two biggest farms," Zuko says. "Sheep mostly. Van tried beef, but that didn't work out. Before my time here. Meat was no good, couldn't get buyers for it. So he moved in on Irwan's territory and started sheep farming. Irwan was already struggling with poor lambing yield, barely any surviving beyond birth. The only thing Van achieved was pissing Irwan off, which I suspect was the purpose. Their families have been warring for years. But Van didn't do any better by trading cattle for sheep. He had exactly the same problems as Irwan. So now there were twice the number of failures, twice the number of lambs dying. Irwan came to the conclusion that Van had been poisoning the animals for years, and Van pointed the finger right back."

"Wow, that's dark," Jet says. "Did you test the carcasses?"

"Sure. No trace of any poisons. We even went as far as having a few autopsied. All deaths were down to natural causes. Weak things, all of them. Underdeveloped digestive systems, undersized vital organs. Probably caused by serious inbreeding."

"Aren't there regulations for that?" Jet asks.

"There are. But try to pin either man down for paperwork and certificates, and well. They got lost in fires, they're in the mail, the dog ate them." Zuko shrugs. "They deny it, of course. The inbreeding. They'd sooner keep up their ridiculous feud than accept the logical explanation. Both of them are convinced that the other is using some unknown, untraceable poison. Or witchcraft. That's another favorite around here."

Jet laughs, gently tapping his fingers on his mug. "So, does that mean that you have to bring in most of your food from outside, even though you have all this land?"

"We bring in all of our food," Zuko says. "This part of the lake isn't much use for fishing, and the poultry farm went bust not long after I arrived. I've never known this place to be anything but a barren wasteland."

Jet pats his stomach. "Sounds like I got lucky with my dinner tonight."

"My delivery guy brought in supplies this morning," Katara says. "But you should eat well. Zuko's right, Zhao is a great baker. And he's first in most mornings to buy vegetables."

"They're popular?"

"They are now," Katara says. "I'm sold out before midday."

"Why don't you bring more in?" Jet asks.

"Nowhere to store them," Katara says. "Especially now as I'm using some of the store for a restorative room. Got a floatation tank, heat lamps, massage area, that kind of thing."

Zuko has no idea what at least half of those things are, but Jet nods like he does.

"I've been talking to Hama about stocking some produce in the minimart she runs," Katara continues. "She has space out back, and if we all contribute to the order, it'll bring delivery costs down, which will keep prices down. And pollution, of course. But it would be great to get the land here to work, have some self-sustainability going on, maybe even sell the surplus on to neighboring towns."

Jet drains his mug and sets it down a final time. "Well, I can only hope I'm still around to see it all happen."

"Eh," Katara says, shrugging. "I know your boss. I'll put in a good word for you." She winks at Zuko and he grins back at her, hoping his face doesn't show the sappy puddle his brain has become. When he looks away, Jet is smiling at both of them but quickly averts his eyes, like he's been caught spying on a private moment.

"I should get going before Zhao thinks I'm not coming back," he says, pushing to his feet.

They follow him into the living room where the girls are lying either end of the sofa, blinking sleepily at the TV. Their legs are tangled together and the dog is wedged in behind them, his head on Mari's hip.

"Good night, kids," Jet says, pulling his coat across his shoulders.

"Good night, Jet," Mari answers, waving tiredly.

"'Night," Aya mutters, which Zuko will take as a success.

"Lovely to meet you all, and thanks so much for the hospitality and the great food." Jet holds out a hand to Zuko. "Sheriff, I'll see you in the morning." He shakes Katara's hand, too. "You guys have a lovely family."

It's not the _you guys_ bit that startles Zuko, it's that Jet is looking right at Katara when he says it.

"Thanks," Katara replies while Zuko is still uncurling his tongue from where it's stuck in the roof of his mouth. He should probably say something, but all he can manage is a dumb "good night" and an even dumber gawping at the door as it closes behind Jet.

"Right," he says slowly, and then mentally shakes himself, forces a bit more volume into his voice. "Okay, hellions, bath. Let's go."

"Should I go, too?" Katara asks quietly, probably because Zuko won't look at her.

"No," he answers, eyes on the stairs as he starts climbing after his daughters. "You definitely should stay. I'll be down in a few minutes."

The girls are tired, and don't say much as the tub fills beyond wanting the purple bubble bath and if they can have their recorders because they don't want to sing. Zuko fetches them from their dresser. "Just make lots of noise," he warns, handing them over.

They get started on that immediately, a fanfare of shrillness that follows Zuko as he goes back downstairs. He takes a deep breath on his way into the kitchen.

Katara is at the sink, washing the dishes without wearing gloves, the soapy suds clinging to her forearms.

Zuko grabs a cloth and lifts a plate from the drainer. "So," he says. "Who is this 'we all?'"

"Huh?" Katara says. She's looking down at the glass she's rinsing, but Zuko can see her brow furrow.

"You said _we all_ , when you were telling Jet about your deliveries. You said we all are chipping in for the costs, or something like that. But you only mentioned Hama, and you two are hardly an _all_."

"Nice detective work, Sheriff. We all are me, Hama and Elmer, so far."

"Elmer? He was at the station yesterday, asking about a planning permission application. What's he up to?"

"He's thinking about remodeling," she answers. "We talked about it at Zhao's."

That's a lot for him to parse together. "Wait, Elmer was at Zhao's for Thanksgiving, too? Who else was there?"

"Just us, plus Kuei and Chong. Oh, and Hama, of course."

"Of course," Zuko murmurs. That is some motley crew, and Zuko suddenly has many, many questions about this dinner, but they'll have to get in line. "So, this remodeling?"

"Elmer's going to gut the diner. Extend on, make a kids' corner, an outside patio, and a take-out counter with a small specialized foods section. Almond and soya dairy alternatives, gluten free products, that kind of thing. Zhao is going to rent a few shelves from him for his bakes, and he's even talking about working there for a couple of hours a week."

"Is that going to be, like, a viable business?" Zuko asks, lifting the glass that Katara sets down.

"I seem to remember you having the same concern about my business," she says mildly.

Almost three months ago, Zuko remembers. When he was her only customer. In a weird-ass store that now attracts more customers than any other in town.

"You think it's a bad idea?" Katara asks when the silence stretches.

Zuko thinks about that for a moment, almost surprised when he realizes that no, it's probably not a bad idea. "If you asked me last summer, I'd say yes, for sure, absolute failure. But you have this town eating out of the palm of your hand. You made the store work, even when everyone was against you. And now they're working with you, and with each other, so I guess your odds are even better. You have a knack for making the impossible possible, for drawing people to you, for getting through to them." Zhao, Hama, Chong, Elmer, Hei Bai.

Zuko himself. His children, Aya in particular. "Hellions," Zuko bellows suddenly. " _Girls_. It's very quiet."

"Sorry, Dad," they yell back, and a duet of recorders pick up again.

"And this floatation tank," he says, watching as Katara scrubs at a casserole dish. "The lamps, and stuff. I'm guessing this is for Elmer, but will anybody else need it? I mean, this is expensive shit, right?"

Katara's hands go still in the water. "Are you mad?" she blurts. "Did I overstep?"

Zuko blinks at her. "Fuming," he nods. "Like how dare you take such good care of my children for free, and help us all through a pretty shitty evening. I mean, you come into my house and clean up, and cook us all delicious food, and entertain a surprise guest, and you don't even complain about the racket coming from up there. And look, you're washing the saucepans now. You…you _fiend_."

Katara looks back at him for the first time since Zuko came into the kitchen. "You know what I mean. Don't pretend you don't. Jet thinks we're together, he thinks I live here. That's what he meant when he said it was convenient that the store was across the street, because he thinks I live here. With you and the girls."

Zuko knows. "I know."

"I wasn't being creepy, letting him think that, but I didn't know how to correct him without it being awkward or embarrassing for him."

"That's not on you. I could have corrected him, and maybe I was the one being a bit creepy because —" Zuko stops to take a panicked breath, and he's really going to do this, he's really going to say — "I liked that he thought that. I like you being here, I like that you look like you belong here. I like how you are with the girls, and how you are with me. I…" He swallows hard and forces himself to keep looking at Katara while he adds, "I like you. A lot."

And because he's an idiot, "Um, like, romantically."

Katara's shocked expression is far from reassuring. Zuko had thought he'd been throwing some serious heart-eyes out there. "You didn't know that?"

"What would have been my first clue?" She takes her hands out the water and dries them on the rag. "The date I asked you on that you weren't at all interested in? Or the hints I was dropping about doing something nice for your birthday that you totally ignored?"

"Oh. You were waiting on…" Zuko sighs at his own stupidity. "I was waiting on you to ask me out for my birthday."

Katara looks a bit pissed at that, her jaw tightening and nose crinkling. "Yeah," she says slowly. "Let me refer you back to date number one from a few seconds ago."

They should have a talk about that night, maybe clue each other into what exactly happened. But later. It's been a long, difficult day, and there are other things that need resolving now. Zuko hitches up his big boy pants.

"Okay, so I'm going to put this out there. I like you, and I'd like to take you out on a date, anywhere you want to go. We can have moons and blankets and duck, or something completely different, your call. So, if that's something that you'd like to do, with me, then great. But if it isn't, then that's—"

Not great. In the short term, it's going to be awkward and mortifying, but after that, it's just going to suck real bad. Especially if he has nobody to blame but himself—

"Idiot," Katara says softly, as if she knows what he's thinking. "Idiot," she repeats, but she's smiling and stepping closer, until she's kissing the indignation right out of him. And then it's easy to fall into the heat of her mouth, the pressure of her hands as they smooth their way up his back, and he forgot. Forgot how much he loved kissing someone he was into, how good it felt to have the weight of another mouth on his, the press of another body against him. Zuko pushes closer, sliding his tongue against Katara's, moaning at the shocked thrill it sends through him. He could probably kiss Katara forever in this quiet—

"Shit," he gasps and then hollers, "Girls!"

"My ears," Katara complains, although she doesn't stop rubbing her thumbs against the soft skin at Zuko's throat. She looks a little dazed, which unfortunately might be more to do with the yelling and less with the kissing.

"It's about to get worse," he warns, leaning into her, and on cue the shrieking of recorders starts up again. "Total mood killer."

Katara laughs and stretches to reach his mouth again, but—"Dad," Mari yells. "We're getting cold."

"We have wrinkles," Aya adds.

"And we don't know any more songs."

"We played _Jingle Bells_ a hundred times."

"And Appa is drinking the bathwater."

Zuko bumps his forehead into Katara's. "If you had any sense, you'd run for the hills."

"Not going anywhere," she says, tightening her arms around him, effectively immobilizing him. "Feels like it took me far too long to get here."

Zuko scoffs, but he's stupidly pleased and utterly charmed. "You're too perfect. There has to be catch. I bet you're crap in bed."

Katara's huff of laughter is hot in his ear. "I'll take that bet," she whispers, managing to make that the filthiest thing Zuko has ever heard, and when she pulls back, her eyes are laughing but dark, steadily holding his own.

"Oh, god," Zuko whines, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Daaaaaaaaaad!" the girls howl.

Katara leans in to kiss him again, just a short peck that Zuko wants to protest. "To be continued," she promises, laughing when he scowls. "Come on." She pushes Zuko through the living room and out into the hall. "I'm going, girls. See you tomorrow!"

"Bye, Katara," the twins chorus back.

She smiles up the stairs and then back at Zuko. "They're such great kids," she says, so sincerely.

"Meh," Zuko says, pulling a face, and dipping in for a last kiss. "I'm thinking of selling them."

He manages to refrain from making grabby hands at her and pulling her back inside, instead sticking with the slightly less embarrassing option of lingering in the entryway and smiling dopily as the door closes behind her. He leans against the wall for a second and puts his hands on his face, feeling his warm cheeks and tingling lips, and laughs. Then he stumbles upstairs, corrals all assorted humans and animals into bed, and spares a moment to think his pillow feels especially soft and cool and wonderful before falling into deep and dreamless sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

"What's wrong?" Toph rasps the following morning when Zuko arrives at her house. She looks like she's been dragged him from her bed, sleep pants rumpled, hair matted down on one side. "Fuck, should I be at the station?"

"I'm looking for your roommate," Zuko says.

Toph steps aside to let him in. "He's probably asleep," she says, closing the door behind Zuko. "Heard him pacing around at all hours. Go on in." Zuko steps through a door, smiling a little at the college student feel of the tiny room. The furniture is not much more than two lumpy sofas and a giant TV. There's an admirable amount of game consoles and other video related paraphernalia scattered around piles and piles of books. Everything is a shade of brown or black, except for the purple lamp without a shade, and a surprisingly healthy looking cactus.

"Hey," Aang says, just as Zuko is yanking his finger away from a savage needle. "I meant to call you last night."

Zuko looks up; Aang seems tired, but not like he just woke up, more like he hasn't slept. "Sorry, I should have called you."

Aang shrugs. "Katara texted. She told me everyone was okay. I just wanted to say sorry, really. You left me in charge of all three of them and, and—" He stops, knuckling at his eyes. "One minute he was there beside us, and then..."

"It's okay," Zuko says quietly. "That monster can move fast when he wants to, and it could have been a lot worse."

"For a few minutes I thought it was. Thankfully Katara was there to save the day." His words and tone sound measured and deliberate, and Zuko's not too sure what to take from either.

"It was a stroke of luck that she was nearby."

"Luck," Aang echoes, lips twisting in a parody of a smile, as if Zuko's missed the point. But he doesn't clarify, so Zuko puts the weirdness down to shock and thesis stress. The guy is probably exhausted.

"Well, with all the excitement, I forgot to pay you," he says, pulling an envelope from his pocket.

"Oh, thanks." Aang takes it, eyes widening at the bulk and the weight of it in his hand. "Did you pay me in ones? Not that I really mind, as they're really all I can afford to spend right now… woah." He pulls out the cash and stares at it. "I think you made a mistake at the ATM. There must be, wow. There must be a thousand dollars here."

"Only half is from me and the girls. The rest is a gift from the committee. It's a combined _thank you for everything_ and _good luck with your paper_ and _please don't leave me forever_."

"Wow," Aang says, still eyeing the bills in disbelief. "This is amazing. Completely unnecessary, but amazing." He looks up at Zuko. "I don't know what to say."

Zuko shrugs, feeling uncomfortable under the weight of so much gratitude. "Come to dinner sometime next week, yeah? Let the girls pick on you for a bit. They're going to miss that."

"I thought I might take them bowling after school today, if that's okay?" Aang says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I was thinking of a game or two, but now that I'm a man of means, we can hire a lane for a couple of hours. Maybe get some burgers and milkshakes."

"Sure," Zuko says. "But don't tell them you have money. Aya's been looking for someone to bankroll her buying a real tiger. Also, they can pay for their own food out of the swearing hush money they've been extorting from you."

Aang laughs and follows Zuko to the door just as Toph bounds down the stairs.

"What, you're leaving without saying goodbye?" she calls.

"Toph, I'm loaded!" Aang shouts, spinning in a circle that makes Zuko dizzy to watch.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Zuko says. "Also, watch for that cord—"

Aang trips over the lamp cord and crashes into the couch as Toph tilts her head. "What are you two knuckleheads talking about?"

"Boss man is spreading the financial love," Aang says, and Toph whistles before narrowing her eyes.

"Only to you?"

"Don't feel unloved, Toph, I've got something for you, too," Zuko says, pulling a sheet of paper from his pocket, feeling the bumps that trail across it. "Your copy of next week's schedule. The new guy, Jet, will be shadowing you. Don't break him."

"I was hoping for something more abundant and rectangular and valuable," Toph complains. "Hey, Twinkle Toes, you wanna throw all that up in the air and we can roll around in it when it hits the ground? I've always wanted to do that."

Zuko leaves them to it.

::

He finds himself thinking of Katara throughout the day, feeling silly when smiles come unbidden and have to be bitten off, when little surges of adrenaline make his pulse speed up, when his stomach feels too full for lunch. He's too old to be feeling like this, he reminds himself. Too dad, too Sheriff, too _jaded_.

Too gone for any of that to matter, though. He wants to roll in that first flush of something new, something big, something special. He wants to do crushed-up things like request sappy love songs on the local radio station, or change his status on his long neglected facebook to _you should see what I just locked down_ , or ask Katara to send him a selfie that he can save on his phone as his lockscreen.

But he's not going to do any of those things, and he's not going to usurp the girls from their rightful place as utmost importance of his images. He might send a text though. Something witty, but cool. Casual, but interested. Snappy, but teasing.

He mulls over it on the drive up to the wasteland owned by Alfie Griffin but he still has nothing by the time he gets there. Pulling out his phone, he resigns himself to sending an uninspiring hi.

There's a message waiting on his screen. **So where are you taking me on our first date?**

Zuko's fingers are impatient as he scrolls through the rest of the messages Katara has sent.

 **No pressure, but it should be somewhere spectacular.**

 **Also, hi.**

 **And I hope you're having a good day.**

"Of course you do," Zuko mumbles, grinning widely as his fingers fly over the keys. "You sap." He wants to send back a text that tells her just how much better his day suddenly got, but he's keeping a rein on his dignity.

 **Hi. The girls are going out with Aang this evening. How about Bar Sing Se? Wanna scandalize the locals?**

Katara replies in seconds. **Not even a little.**

He quickly types out— **There's a great place in Milton that does take out? They don't deliver, but I could go pick it up. We could eat at mine? Let me know and I'll get back to you later. I'm about to investigate a… wait for it… fishnapping.**

Katara texts again before he's stepped out of the car. **Sounds dangerous. Should I be worried about you?**

Zuko laughs, more than a little pleased by the idea of her being worried about him. **Do not fear, good citizen. I'm here to fight for truth, and justice, and the safety of fish everywhere.**

His phone buzzes almost immediately. **My hero.**

 **Oh, yeah?** Zuko shoots back. **And what rewards await your hero when he returns from this most perilous of quests?**

 **What would you like?**

Zuko jigs the phone in his fingers for a few long seconds, and decides to take a chance. **Your hero might be in need of a life-affirming kiss.** He's beginning to regret it when there's nothing but silence a minute later, and he has no choice but to step away from the cruiser and head towards a frantically waving Alfie. He's about to put his phone back into his pocket when it chimes twice in quick succession.

 **This is our first proper date, Zuko.**

 **So you'll get a beer, dinner, and some life-affirming second base action.**

Zuko puts his phone away for sure this time.

He'll take that, no complaints at all.

::

The fishnapping is upgraded to a fishicide. It takes Zuko some time to convince Alfie that his prize winning goldfish were not stolen for nefarious purposes.

"I have enemies," Alfie declares.

Zuko doesn't doubt it; Alfie is the very definition of curmudgeon. "So do your fish," he says, lifting a piece of nearby hedge and pointing to the paw prints in the loose soil. "I reckon this was the culprit's escape route."

Alfie bends down to examine the ground more carefully. "A cat attack?"

"Probably," Zuko says with a sympathetic sigh. Most of the sympathy is for himself. "Felis Catus."

"What's that then?" Alfie asks, huffing himself upright again. "Mountain lion? Jaguar?"

"Jag—" Zuko begins, and then stops, mouthing the rest of the word. "Um, no. We're pretty light on jaguars around here. I'm thinking more domestic cat."

"Those bastards," Alfie grits, looking around like one might suddenly pounce and attack. "I'll shoot them if I see them." He shakes his fist in the air, a warning to any cat that might be stealthily casing the joint.

Zuko sighs again. What is it with this town and its readiness to immediately reach for a shotgun. It's nothing short of a miracle that nobody has been killed. "You will not. Your land isn't fenced, your boundaries aren't clearly marked. What if you mistake a toddler for a cat?"

Alfie looks confused. "What would a toddler be doing all the way up here?"

That's a pretty valid point. It would be more likely to see a jaguar than a child anywhere near Alfie's land. "I don't know," Zuko admits. "Maybe it went for a walk with its parents and got lost. But you do enough complaining about your cataracts for me to be very nervous about the idea of you firing a gun at small things that move."

Alfie shifts uncomfortably, running his hands over his ample belly until one of his fingers catches in the hole of his ratty cardigan. "Got an appointment to see that New Age girl about these damned things," he grumbles, pointing to his eyes with his other hand.

"Of course you do," Zuko replies, not even remotely surprised.

"I guess I'll just lay some poison, then."

Zuko shakes his head. "You're not doing that, either. The wildlife around here is barely holding on, and we really don't want what's left of it to commit involuntary mass suicide on your land."

Alfie's face gets pretty red, and he licks at his already slippery lips. "I have a right to protect my fish!" he exclaims.

"What fish?" Zuko counters, casting an eye at the empty pond.

"The ones I'm going to have to buy. Hey, do you think the insurance people will pay for replacements?"

"I don't know," Zuko says slowly. "Were your fish insured?"

Alfie's face says no. "So get a net to cover the pond when you buy more," Zuko says. "Maybe mention it to Katara when you see her. She might…" Have some cat deterring crystals, know a fish protection chant, get a little visualization going, go into the fish business with you. "...have some ideas."

On the way back to the station, Zuko takes the scenic route which brings him down towards the Mourns. When he gets to the clearing, he catches some movement from the corner of his eye, and slows down, really hoping this isn't orange-glow related. But it's nothing more extraordinary than the rotavator in action.

Playing hooky, huh, Zuko thinks, drawing up alongside the gates. There's nothing pressing waiting for him at work, nothing that can't be put off until later, or tomorrow even.

 _Ma'am, would you mind stepping out of the vehicle, and please keep your hands where I can't see them. Preferably in my pants_.

It's probably as well that he doesn't open with that, because when he rounds the corner he discovers that Katara's not alone. There's a figure bent over the soil, dragging a trowel through the earth.

"Hello," he says cautiously, and the person startles before straightening and spinning to face him. "Michi?"

His mother-in-law looks every bit as surprised as Zuko does, and not especially pleased either. It makes him feel like he's intruded on something that wasn't for his eyes.

She claps her gloved hands together, shaking some of the soil from them. "What are you doing here?"

"I was passing," Zuko shrugs, pointing at the road beyond the house. "Saw the rotavator. Thought Katara might be here."

"Well, she isn't," she says, clipped.

"Right," Zuko says. "But you are." He looks over at the tractor, watching it turn the soil over, creating a dirty looking blizzard. "That's not her in there?"

Michi's mouth narrows a little and she finds a spot on the ground to stare at. "Katara said we wouldn't be disturbed."

"I didn't know you knew her."

"She called to my house a couple of weeks ago, looking for some flower cuttings. She knew I was florist, and we got to talking a bit over coffee, and well…" She trails off, looking up and around her. Anywhere but at Zuko. "She told me about this place, said she could do with a hand. And she also said that we wouldn't be disturbed."

"Sorry," Zuko says, jamming his hands in his pockets. "Like I said, I was passing, and Katara wouldn't have known I'd be here. So, I—I'll probably find her back at the store."

Michi nods, like it might be a good idea for Zuko to go do that now.

The engine on the tractor goes silent, and Zuko watches as a figure jumps down and begins walking towards them. It's a man, and as he draws closer, Zuko realizes that he's vaguely familiar. His hair is gelled back, his clothes shabby and a little too big for him.

"Sheriff," he says, nodding at Zuko.

"Hello," Zuko returns, confused.

The man twists his hands and takes a breath. "I'm glad you're here," he says softly, but with purpose. "I want to apologize for all the injury I have brought upon you, both professionally and personally. I take full responsibility for the harm that I have caused, and wish to make amends for my actions."

It takes Zuko three more seconds. "Long Feng?" he says, utterly amazed. "Is that you?"

"Yes, sir. Ten days sober now," Long Feng says, standing straight and proud. He looks taller now that he's not crouching to stay on his feet.

"Wow," Zuko manages. "That's wonderful. That's—Good for you."

"Thank you," Long Feng says genuinely. "And I mean what I say." He bows his head and looks up balefully. "I want to be a better neighbor, a better citizen, a contributing member of the community. So, if you need any jobs done, I'd be very grateful if you'd give me the opportunity to step up. I wouldn't expect to be paid or anything. It'd be an honor to help out."

That's the longest and most coherent thing that Zuko has ever heard Long Feng say, and it's not just the words that are shocking, it's the sincerity behind them. "Sure," he says when the silence makes Long Feng squirm. "If I think of anything. Although, I'm pretty sure Zhao could do with some neighborly help?"

"Zhao told me good fences make good neighbors," Long Feng says, smile wry. "And then he suggested that's where I start, so I spent the morning mending the fences between our yards. Must have done a good job because he rewarded me most kindly with a big slice of the finest cake I ever tasted." He nods formally at Zuko and shuffles backwards. "I'll get back to work, Sheriff. You'll know where to find me if you need me."

"I guess," Zuko says, turning to say goodbye to Michi. But she's already bent over the soil again, Zuko dismissed, and likely forgotten.

::

His legs are wooden as he walks back to the car, his steps almost clunky on the ground. It's like stumbling off the moon. Zuko can't connect with the earth, can't get his feet to resettle beneath him. He hates that feeling of being knocked off kilter, especially when he's not even sure why he's so rattled. It might be just the anger and dumb hurt that's chewing on his insides, but it feels more than that. Bigger than that.

It sits heavily on him during the drive back, Michi sharing something with Katara, and Zuko should be pleased for her, and grateful to Katara. Very pleased and very grateful, but all he's really feeling is excluded from something else in Michi's life. And it's almost as if Katara is facilitating this new exclusion. It feels like a betrayal.

Katara calls just as he's pulling up to the yard. The rational part of Zuko knows that it's best not to answer, knows that the mess in his head is going to come spilling out of his mouth. It's so new, where they are, what they are, and it could still be too fragile to withstand him losing hold of his temper. But rationality is quickly gobbled up by the hurt, reactive part of him kicking for instant gratification.

"Why is Michi up at the Mourns?" he demands, cutting right through Katara's cheerful hello.

Katara breathes loudly down the line. "You went up to the Mourns?" she says, dismayed.

"Was I not supposed to?" Zuko sneers. "Yes, I went up the fucking Mourns, and I saw my mother-in-law doing your gardening or some shit, and she won't even come to Saturday breakfast with me and the girls—"

"I told her she wouldn't be disturbed, Zuko," Katara says. She sounds disappointed, and that really presses hard on his last nerve.

"Yeah, she mentioned that. A couple of times. But why would I be disturbing her, Katara? I'm her family."

"This isn't about you," she says, sharp. "It's about her and what she needs. She goes up there most afternoons, spends hours out in the fresh air, taking an interest in something, falling in love with something again. It's a huge first step for her and right now, it's personal. She'll share when she's ready."

"But she's already sharing with you," Zuko says, and he knows he sounds like an asshole. "You. A stranger. And a miraculously sober Long Feng. But not me. Not her grandchildren. The people who love her and who have been cut out of her life."

There's nothing but static silence for twenty seconds and then Katara sighs. "I have to go up to the Mourns to make sure she's okay. I'll call you later."

She actually couldn't have said anything worse at that moment. "You're kidding me," Zuko snaps, looking down at his hand clenched on the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension and fury. "You need to see if she's okay because she had a two minute conversation with me? What, you're going to comfort her after the trauma of my presence?"

"Of course not," Katara snaps back. "Don't put words in my mouth. I'm going up there—"

"To fix my mess," he cuts in. "Right? I mean, is there anything you can't fix? Hands, feet, backs, allergies, skin diseases, grief, alcoholism? You've got quite the gift there, don't you."

It gets quiet again. The only sound in the car is his harsh breathing.

"What's really bothering you?" she asks eventually.

"This isn't enough?" he shoots back.

"It's plenty. But it's not all."

Yeah, it's not all. It's just that Zuko doesn't have the rest right now. "I—" He's not even sure what's coming after that, but he's stopped by a gentle rap on the window. Piandao from the towing company is waving a hand inches from Zuko's face. "Have to go," he finishes, and hangs up before Katara can reply.

"Afternoon, Sheriff," Piandao says amiably when Zuko rolls the window down. "We got that vehicle from the accident yesterday. Hit your dog, I believe?"

"Yeah," Zuko sighs, wondering what happened to this day that started out so perfectly. "You got a bill for me?"

"No, sir," Piandao replies. "All on the driver, I hear. We've been holding the car until her insurance people got in touch. Some company from, uh—" He pokes around in his shirt pocket for a piece of pink paper that he squints at. "Down by the bay. They're on the way over to collect it. But we close up early on a Thursday, and those folks won't be here until this evening. I was wondering if they could collect the car from your yard?"

Zuko can see the tow truck in his rearview mirror, just waiting for permission. "Sure," he says. "I'll open up for you." He pulls away and parks the cruiser past the gates. His stiff limbs are grateful for the stretching they get while guiding the truck into the yard.

Piandao waves off any other help, easing the car onto the ground without trouble. "Appreciate this, Sheriff," he says, hopping one last time into the truck. "Waste of time and money, though, if you ask me. Should just send the thing for scrap. And I'm real sorry about your dog. Must have been quick, at least." He gives Zuko a smart salute, and trundles out of the yard.

Zuko turns back to the car, a sudden cold shiver shimmying up his back. When he was a kid, his grandma would say that meant someone was walking over his grave. She'd cackle when she'd say it, poking a bony finger along his spine. It always gave him goosebumps and left him feeling like something creepy was behind him.

Or, right now, in front of him.

His eyes blur as he stares at the car. He knows with a certainty that he can't explain, he _knows,_ something awful is under that tarp.

He closes his eyes.

He doesn't have to look, doesn't have to see what's hidden beneath. It's cold, real cold, and he could go inside, order someone to fetch him a coffee and a chocolate bar from Toph's not-so-secret stash. Call Katara, maybe. Tell her whatever needs to be said to get the rest of this day back on track. The car doesn't matter. It'll be gone by the next time Zuko comes to work. There's no dispute about fault, his wallet is no lighter, his dog is very much alive.

 _Must have been quick at least._

It's all good, Zuko thinks. Long Feng is sober, Michi is outside again, Zhao is baking, Elmer is taking an interest in his business, Hama is nicer, Hei Bai isn't plagued by hiccups, Aya is happier in school, and Zuko's in love. The whole town is changing for the better.

It's all good.

Unless it's all an illusion that's covered by a tarp.

Katara didn't want him to look, didn't want him to see. Zuko had wanted to check on the driver, to speak to Toph, but Katara led him away, made sure he didn't see the car. Said she'd take care of everything, and Zuko had let her.

He opens his eyes. His legs are reluctant as he drags them across the yard, his hands shaky as he pulls at the heavy canvas. It lands with a soft thud onto the ground.

And when he sees what Katara was trying to hide from him, the most shocking thing is that Zuko isn't shocked at all.

He must stay still for too long, because his hands, feet, and cheeks are utterly frozen when he hears a hesitant voice calling from the door.

"Sheriff?"

Zuko breaks his trance to look over at Jet stepping carefully onto the gravel. "You okay there?" Jet asks. His shoulders are hunched, hands dug into the pockets of his brand new uniform pants. "Sir?"

"I'm fine."

"It's just," Jet says, looking worried. "You've been standing out here for almost thirty minutes, and you've barely moved."

Thirty minutes. No wonder he has no feeling in his face. Or his hands. The gloves Katara gave him are in the glovebox of the cruiser.

"As the first day rookie, everybody's been having a little fun with me. You know, making me get the coffee, boosting the heating, calling the DA's office to ask for a long wait, and being left on hold for half an hour. Also, being sent outside to ask the boss why he's being weird."

Zuko snorts. The long wait joke is a tradition he might have warned Jet about at dinner.

"You must be freezing," Jet continues, closer now. "You want me to get—" He cuts off when he reaches Zuko. "Dear god," he mutters, and whistles softly. "What happened here?"

"Car accident," Zuko answers redundantly, and both of them are looking at where the bumper might be if it wasn't wiped clean off. There's a sickening dent in the grille, almost a perfect arch. Both headlights are shot and all that remains of the windshield is blunt shards stuck in the rubber seal. The hood's a mangle of twisted green metal, shaped into something decidedly not car-like.

"Fatalities?" Jet asks, backing away.

"None," Zuko says. The saggy airbag covering the steering wheel gives the whole wreck an even more sinister feel.

"Lucky. What did it hit?"

"My dog."

Jet's eyes widen to saucers. "This car hit your dog?" he says. "The dog I saw last night? The one that walked— _walked_ —into your house. Alive and uninjured?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?" Jet asks, and then rolls his eyes at himself. "I mean, of course you're sure. It's just. I mean… I can't believe anything survived that hit."

Zuko's seen too many road fatalities. They didn't always look bad, initially. He was second on scene the evening Mai died. He knew it was her. He knew their car. Toph kept telling him to go home, but it was raining heavily and someone needed to warn oncoming traffic that there was an accident ahead. It was Toph who told him that Mai was dead, killed on impact. Zuko thanked her for telling him, and he went out and shone a torch on the traffic while they cut his wife's body from the wreckage. Then he traveled to the hospital with her in an ambulance that didn't even have its sirens on when it left; that's how dead she was.

The insurance people called a few days later. He'd need a new door and new headlight on the driver's side. They could replace the windshield and fix most of the rest with some body work. Most of the damage was caused by the mechanical jaws used to open the door.

"That is good news," he'd said. "My twenty-four year old wife was killed in that accident, but her children and her mother will be thrilled to hear that the car is doing well."

The woman had blustered and choked through her apologies, and it wasn't her fault that somewhere along the way 'fatality' had been left out of the paperwork. But Zuko hadn't had any comfort to offer her. "Burn it," he'd said.

He had been to other accident scenes, ones where the car wasn't so fortunate, where it was nothing more than twisted metal and shattered glass anointed with gas fumes. He'd seen extremely lucky people walk away from these carnages. But there was always a reason. Maybe they weren't wearing a seat belt but were lucky enough to have a soft landing. Maybe the impact wasn't on their side. Maybe something got between them and the impact.

Not here though, Zuko thinks as his eyes flit back down to the mangled grille. Appa didn't escape the impact; he _was_ the impact. There's a perfect curve in the metal, almost Great Dane shaped.

"That's just freaky," Jet mutters.

"Freaky," Zuko echoes. He gives himself a little shake, looking away from the car. "I have to go somewhere. Tell Toph I'll be back in a while. Cover this up first."

"Where should I say you're going?" Jet asks, already bending for the tarp.

"To the library. Someone has some explaining to do."


End file.
